Gregon
by ILLK
Summary: (SLASH, Harry/Draco) When things screw up, people turn to the legendary duo Potter and Weasley. But when the Gregon gets captured, will they be able to pull this rescue off? There is no Ron/Harry! Not in my fic!
1. Prologue

**Title:** Gregon

**Author:** Sherry

**Email:** junruichen@aol.com

**Summary:** Harry and Draco meet again, after nearly seven years being apart.

**Pairing:** Harry/Draco

**Rating:** Umm... NC-15 for the implication of SLASH, but there's not going to be more than kissing and very inexplicit sex.

**Author's Notes:** This has probably been done a million times before, but this is my version, my take on it, so you haven't read it before! This is the first time I've ever wrote HP slash, so please don't kill me if I did it wrong.

I want this to be slash, it hopefully it will be, but since I don't write slash very well, it might end up short and it might now show up until later in the story.

**Author's Warnings:** WiP. Also this is SLASH! So if you don't like the thought of two men (yes, they aren't boys any more!) doing the horizontal cha-cha, go away. Don't flame me because you've ignored my warnings and read this anyway. 

Remember folks, this is SLASH, so kiddies, old women and other such people who are squicked easily, please don't read this. 

I know there are underaged readers out there who love slash and read slash regardless of my warnings, so I'm not going to say much to you. In this case it's more like Don't Tell and I Won't Ask.

* * *

**Prologue**

_"Sir," a breathless voice panted. "Gregon... he's been captured!"_

A calm voice answered her. "How?"

She shook her head. "We don't know. But from what our snitch tells us, he isn't talking."

Silence. "The Forgitius potion?"

"We believe so, sir."

He regarded her silently. "How long has he been in captivity?"

"Not long -- two, three days at the most." She paused. "Sir, we still have time to get him out before the potion runs out." A beat. "Sir! We have to get him out! Gregon has been working for us for close to a decade!"

He sighed. "I know the Gregon's record." He stood up from the seat he was sitting, turning to look out of the window behind him. "And I know his importance to our cause. He must not be harmed." He whirled around to face his assistant. "Summon them to me."

She nodded firmly and he quickly dismissed her. Turning away once again, he tried to think of a way to tell them of the situation without them becoming to agitated to work. What was to come next... It would take a miracle to get the Gregon out of Voldemort's clutches. 

* * *

A/N: Short, I know, but this is only the prologue. First chapter is due within this next week. Oh yeah, please review!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Harry!"

Harry turned his head to look back, his feet not break stride. Seeing who it was that was calling him, he slowed down so Ron could catch up.

"Hey Ron," Harry greeted when Ron finally caught up to him. He didn't stop walking and they rounded a corner. "Dumbledore call you too?"

The tall red head nodded. "Interrupted some much needed sleep too." Ron rubbed his eyes. "Whatever it is he wants, it better important enough for his assistant to wake me up at 3 am."

Harry laughed. "You should know by now not expect anything when it comes to Dumbledore." They walked down the hall swiftly, each knowing that if Dumbledore had summoned them, it must be bad.

"Have you heard the latest Grey Dragon story?" Ron suddenly asked, trying to alleviate some of the tension.

"Hmmm...?" Harry murmured, his thoughts still on what it was Dumbledore wanted them for. "What?"

"The Grey Dragon?"

Harry blinked. Remembering a snatch of what Ron had asked him, he replied, "Oh! The Grey Dragon. No...I don't think I remember hearing the latest story." Seeing that Ron what looking at him expectantly, he mentally sighed. "What's the latest story, Ron?"

Ron grinned and launched into a story of the Grey Dragon and how he foiled one of Voldemort's latest plans to gain control of Southern Asia and effectively the Pacific Ocean. When he finished, Harry couldn't help but chastise his friend. "How could you believe in that..." He searched for a word, "Hogwash? You know as well as I do that there is no proof that the Grey Dragon really exists."

"That's the point, Harry! Even though there's no proof he really exists, there isn't proof that he doesn't exist. This war has been hard on all of us." He grabbed Harry's arm, halting them. "We need something to get us through. You know as well as I do that stories about the Grey Dragon have been circulating even before we graduated. That a spy could infiltrate You Know Who's inner circle is somewhat inspiring to the rest of us. Do you know what I mean?"

Although it was a bit odd to him, he knew that hope was a much needed thing in times like these. If people wanted to believe in a most likely fictional character to get them through there days, who was he to disagree? "I suppose," Harry admitted reluctantly and they resumed walking, the subject being closed -- for now.

They slowed down as they neared the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry nodded to Mistia, Dumbledore's assistant, knocking the on the door they swiftly entered the room.

What greeted them was a dark room and a grim Dumbledore, both Harry was certain to be ill omens. Dumbledore was rarely so occupied and he couldn't remember a time that his chamber's has ever been this gloomy. Frankly, the whole allure was a bit disconcerting.

"Ah...Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley," he acknowledged. "You're late."

Taken a back, Harry regarded his old Headmaster with uneasiness. Dumbledore had never cared much for punctuality before. He gave Ron a glance and Ron sent one back of confusion. He didn't seem to know what had Dumbledore riled up. The two took seats in front of Dumbledore's desk and waited for him to speak.

When moments past and he still didn't say a thing, Harry started to really worry. Dumbledore was staring straight through him with dazed eyes and it seemed as if he didn't know they were even there, his earlier greeting aside. Harry cleared his throat, hoping to do the trick. It seemed to work as Harry could see the glassy look fade from his eyes and Dumbledore regard him with focused eyes. "Sir?"

Dumbledore blinked. "Harry..." he whispered, but almost immediately he shook his head and looked over Ron and Harry. 

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, giving a questioning glance at Harry.

"Fine," he answered brusquely. "I know you are probably wondering why I call you here today and you know that I wouldn't call you in so abruptly if it wasn't important." He sighed. "Boys, we have a problem on our hands."

Harry leaned in close. His feeling of dread was worsening and when he spoke, he couldn't quite mask the apprehension in his voice. "What's wrong, Headmaster?" Although Dumbledore was much more than Headmaster of Hogwarts now, sometimes the title slipped out of Harry's and other students' who had known the man as the Headmaster of their school. 

Dumbledore fixed a hard look on his two ex-students. "I assume you've heard of the Grey Dragon?"

_The Grey Dragon?_ Harry thought with bewilderment. _What does that fake story have to do with anything?_

"Of course. Everybody's talking about him," Ron answered enthusiastically. "There's probably a hundred stories about him going around for almost a decade."

The Headmaster snorted, which in itself was odd of him. "Yes, well, they were never supposed to get out in the first place." 

Harry mentally started. _Did he just imply the Grey Dragon is...for real? _

Almost as if he could hear his thoughts, Dumbledore replied, "Yes, Mr. Potter. He's real."

Harry gaped as Ron gave whoop of laughter. "See! I told you he was real!" Ron cried as he smacked Harry on the arm. Seeing Dumbledore's raised eyebrow, he calmed down, hurriedly saying an apology.

Regaining his voice, Harry croaked, "So all of the stories we've been hearing ever since our 5th year are true?"

"Most of them -- although a few had been the creation of a person's overactive imagination -- but for the most part, the stories of the Grey Dragon have been real." Dumbledore's smile grew grim. "But that's our problem. For nearly ten years, the Grey Dragon worked his way up You Know Who's organization, building alliances with witches and wizards who were being bullied to be at You Know Who's side. He's our first line of defense against the Dark Lord and there are countless numbers of things that he's done in keeping the darkness at bay." He drew in a sharp breath. "And he's been captured."

Harry was once more rendered speechless, but it wasn't that he didn't have anything to say -- it was more like he had too much to say and didn't know just how to organize his thoughts. He opened his mouth to say one thing, think of a different thing to say and close his mouth as he tried to think of a way to ask that instead. Glancing at Ron he could see he was having the same trouble speak as he was.

"I can see that both of you have many question and I will try to answer them as well as I can, but time is of the essence. The Grey Dragon is important to our movement, both strategically as well as emotionally. As you've said before, for almost a decade we have heard stories of his exploits. Men and women alike around the world have come to see the Grey Dragon as an icon of hope. To hear that he's been captured or worse killed by Voldemort would strike a definite blow to our moral. The last thing we need now with this war dragging as long as it has is for our people to feel as if we don't have a chance against him."

Harry nodded, feeling almost as if he'd gotten all of his wits together. "What does he know?" In every story told of the Grey Dragon, he had always been referred to as a male, but it had been possible that he could not have been a he, but a she. Hermione had argued it a few times in the past before and being Hermione, she had make believable arguments. But Dumbledore just confirmed the sex of the spy, whether or not he intended to disclose the fact, he didn't know, but Harry did now he was a male.

_Typical_, Ron thought as he heard Harry's question. Only he would worry about what this guy could say to hurt their movement. For as long as the Grey Dragon had been in existence, Harry had been just a preoccupied with destroying You Know Who for that length of time. Silently cursing, Ron mentally scolded himself for not being able to say his name. Hermione and Harry have both reproached him about it, but damn it they never had to live in a wizarding community or world. They don't know how it was like for him and for the rest of the world. His name is -- _was_, he corrected himself -- taboo. He had tried saying it before, but most of the time it would get stuff on his tongue and the few times he got it out, it just didn't feel..._right_. 

"I'm afraid to say a lot. He knows more than we do and if they get within his head..." Dumbledore trailed off, the ramifications not lost on both of them. They all knew how the Dark Lord works. Use them, lose them was how the people referred to his tactics now. Once he got what he want, there would be no use to him any more and more times than not, he usually killed them. Rarely would he retain a useless man or woman, unless it was just for his pleasure or if he thought he could use them again. There would be no use for an spy, other than to betray his masters. And most importantly, he would serve as a symbol, not just to those who worked against the Dark Lord, but to those who may entertain desires to deflect, so to speak. However he chooses to kill the Gregon, Dumbledore was sure it wasn't going to be good. That's why he needed to get him out of there as soon as possible.

"You want us to get him out, sir?" Ron tentatively asked. A curt nod confirmed what was both in their minds.

"If you don't mind me asking," Harry began, seeing complications at every turn. "But how exactly are we going to do that? The last time a spy had been caught by Voldemort, he was held at Malos Manor. And for almost a week after finding out Dennis had been caught we tried to find the location of the Manor--"

"Failing miserably, might I add," Ron interrupted. "Harry's right sir. From what we've learned, almost all prisoners are taken to Malos Manor and killed there. In all the years we've tried, we've never found it before." The more he thought about it, he couldn't think of a way the rescue could be successful. It'll be Dennis all over again and remembering how hard Harry had taken to his death made him wary to subject his friend through that again.

Dumbledore reached for his top drawer, murmuring the password to the charm that protected it, it sprang open. He reached in and pulled out a thin scroll. Without speaking he unrolled the paper. It was a map -- of an island to be exact -- detailed to the last tree. Dumbledore tapped the parchment. "That won't be a problem. This is Malos Island. Draco Malfoy passed this on to us two weeks before his capture."

* * *

A/N: A little longer this time. I hope I'm not too vague. Oh, just in case you're wondering, Grey refers to the space between Light and Dark. I believe Draco exists in between, leaning towards of the Light. *shrugs* I'm odd.

Jivanna: I know it was short. Hopefully this helps to say if it's good or not. :)

Next part due next week, hopefully. As always, review!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

  


**HARRY**

"Draco Malfoy?" Ron's mouth twisted in disgust. "What does that bastard have to do with any of this?"

You can't blame Ron for the reaction -- after what Malfoy treated him during our days at Hogwarts, it's hard not to be resentful. Hell, I was pretty ticked at him.

I've never understood Malfoy. At times it was easy to be caught up in his sneering veneer. No matter what I think of Malfoy, I don't believe anyone, not even he could be so one dimensional. Sometimes you see little parts of Malfoy that didn't fit with facade he had built himself. And there was no doubt in my mind that that was all Malfoy was, a thick facade, built over years to keep himself from seeping out. But the problem with that was when you keep so much inside, to yourself, you also keep things from coming in. Sometimes I wondered how he could even feel with the barriers he's put up.

But there were times, the times when the guise slipped and you are treated to a look without malice. But then there were also the times where his eyes were so full of sadness and misery and it seems to roll off of him making you wonder how could the boy who had everything in life -- money, stature -- could be so unhappy.

My emotions had gotten in my way for many years, so much that it blinded me to Malfoy's true disposition. I could never explain the irrational feeling he seemingly arouse in me. Every time he opened his little mouth I felt the temperature rise and I could feel my heart start thumping and everything around me start to swim.

There had been a few years in which Malfoy had been missing -- after graduation -- where there had been no news, no Intel, no nothing on him. Then all of a sudden he popped up, after his father's death, a Death Eater and Voldemort's right hand man to boot. How he had risen so far up in such short time we never found out, but there had been some speculation that he had sold his father and his soul for the position.

When Malfoy popped into the public's eye once again and his exploits against Muggles and Wizards alike made known, Harry started to -- like everybody else -- wonder how he had gotten to that post. By then I had grown up somewhat and could think with a more unbiased heart. Without Malfoy there to antagonize me every few minutes, my mind was clear to think about how Malfoy was...Malfoy.

But to be frank, seven years ago when he first appeared was the first time I had ever thought about him for almost three years. When we were in school he was a pest, a bully, nothing more. Sure he made my life unpleasant, but after a while his threats became tedious, his insults unimaginative. He faded to the point of background noise and when he left, the noise gone, I didn't give it much thought.

He was always more important to Ron. It was Ron who kept taking offense, even after seven years of almost the same insults. Insults to his appearance, his parents lack of money, his name. Somehow Malfoy always found a way to hurt Ron.

But he like me, forgot about Malfoy as soon as he disappeared. It was as if he never existed in our lives. Then again, Ron was feeling the pangs of a love realized during the same time...

Now after so many years of hearing of Malfoy atrocities, of all the things he's done against mankind in general, I can't help but think that if he was on our side, then how could he ever do those things? I understand a need for cover, but to kill mercilessly hundreds of Muggles, Wizards and Witches is a bit much for us to forgive.

I know I'm not going to get all the answers, most, but most likely not all. I may be Harry Potter, a leader against the Dark, but I was still in a chain of command and there are things even I am not privy too. Hopefully, Dumbledore will find it prudent to tell us about his involvement with our fight as we are the ones who will be rescuing him.

**RON**

"Draco Malfoy? What does that bastard have to do with any of this?"

Malfoy. Just say his hearing -- saying his name makes me shake in fury. That damned bastard was no good.

_What the hell does Malfoy have to do with this?_ He had no reason to help us, no reason at all! Why would a high ranking -- the highest ranking -- Death Eater help one of us? They would soon die than help one of us. 

It sound rather melodramatic, doesn't it? But it's fact, not ideal speculation. We caught Death Eaters before. Big, small, powerful or cannon fodder, they all end up the same. Death by cyanide poisoning. Makes you think doesn't it? The almighty You Know Who (I'm working on it!) and his underlings resorting to Muggle poisons. I hadn't heard of cyanide before I starting working actively for the Dark, but from what I know it's too good for the twice damned bastards. They probably know it too...taking the cowards way out.

Malfoy...help us. It doesn't sound right, does it? No. I know the implication it was making, but I couldn't believe it. This is _Malfoy_ we're talking about! Some things in life are supposed to be constant -- the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, Muggles will always be meddlesome and damn it! Malfoy is supposed to be a cold hearted son of a bitch! It's the way things are supposed to be. 

Seven years ago, after his reappearance, I wasn't surprised like everybody else. While they were wondering why and how he had gotten so far up, I think about why it took him to damned long to pop up again. Two years is a long time, but I bet he was doing something nasty during that time. We never found out what he actually do during that time -- there was no way to ask, but blackguards like him can't last long without doing something dastardly. 

But he had gotten us a map of Malos Island. Looking it over, it wasn't too small, but small enough to be hidden easily. There was a large enclosure on the West side of the island and a rectangular area. _Malos Manor_, I supposed. A number of small building were scattered in the enclosure, troop encampments. It could be nothing else. A forest dominated most of the East side Malos Island, making apparating there hard. Apparation is best when there's two open spaces. Less interference, you see. It's too easy for something to go wrong. In this case you end up being stuck within a tree. 

I looked over the map with a strategic eye. It was good map, I couldn't deny that. It showed the sentries and the guards and where they were posted, making it easier to avoid them. Something had been bothering me from the moment Dumbledore mentioned Malfoy's name and now it was nagging me with no end. "Sir, are you sure we can trust...Malfoy?" I made me say his name, but I couldn't quite mask the small curl of distaste.

Leaning in closer, I noticed that there were more than one map. Lifting the top map off, my eyes bulged as I looked through the other maps. There were about four other maps in total, one of the manor, close up with each story shown in detail and the other four of the surround areas. Along the sides there were notes on how to avoid the lookouts and the other guards who seemed to make rounds every hour. If this was real... I shook my head. I can't let myself think like that. Malfoy must be up to something. Why else would he drop something so heavily kept a secret by the Death Eaters.

I looked up as I realized Dumbledore still haven't spoken. I glanced at Harry who was looking at the maps as well. I know that gleam in his eye. Harry and I, we've been friends for over a decade and a half. I think I wouldn't be able to judge my best friends emotions by now. Harry believed this, believed in him. It made me sick. Harry was still too trusting. How he had kept that naiveté that seemed to get him into trouble after all these years of war I will never know. 

In a way it was good for him to be unchanged by the horrors we've gone through. By unchanged I mean he hasn't lost his innocence to the harsh realities of war as no one can be unaffected by it. Too many people have died...Neville was killed in action three years ago, Dean almost five years ago and then there was Aislynn... She perhaps hurt Harry the most. They were pretty close when she died suddenly seven years ago. I was never told how it happened, but I heard Harry was there when it happened. 

Everybody refused to talk about it. Dumbledore wouldn't even acknowledge that she had existed and Harry... Harry took it hard. For weeks he just sort have stumbled around, not really living. I think he couldn't comprehend the death of someone who was so close to him. But he wasn't allowed much time to grieve. Just a week after Aislynn's death, Hermione's parents were targeted by the Death Eaters. They're okay, by the way. We somehow gotten a hold of the information about the attack before hand. They needed to relocated and protected and Harry threw himself into his work. He was never the same again.

**Dumbledore**

"Mr. Weasley, I promise you this map and everything I am about to tell you is true. Draco Malfoy is the Grey Dragon -- has been for twelve years. In all these years he has with us, he has never betrayed my trust or my confidence," I answered, my voice deadly serious. It was important that these two understand how important Draco was to the cause. Without him, we will never be able to win against Voldemort. Everything we have learned about this war has indicated that Draco is a key player in the Dark Lord's defeat.

"But he's Malfoy!" Ron argued, waving his hands in the air. "Have we forgotten what he has done to us? What he's done to innocent wizards and witches? Not to mention Muggles?!"

I could feel the anger building within me but I calmed down, pushed the rage down to a minimum. Ron would never understand what Draco has done for us. He has adverted more deaths, passed more information -- tactical and strategic -- to us than any other person that's been placed with the Death Eaters. When I finally spoke once again, my voice was quiet and calm. "No matter what you think of Draco Malfoy, you will have to put aside your disputes of the past for this mission. It's imperative that we get him out and get him out soon. For the last few weeks, Draco has been gathering information of an assault on Voldemort's part. From what he's learned so far, it's going to be a major attack against the Muggles. For the most part of this war, we have kept it out of the Muggles' eyes," I paused, looking over at Ron and Harry to see their responses. They nodded and I continued, "But this attack will bring the Wizarding community under scrutiny. We can't allow that. We have enough complications without having witch hunts being orchestrated by the Muggles. Draco contacted me a week ago, telling me that he has gotten all the information that we need, but he was captured before he pass the information on to us. We need that information."

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but I effectively stopped him with a wave of my hand. "I know what you are thinking Mr. Weasley. How can we trust him after all he's done, but let me remind you. What you see and hear is not always what is. Keep an open mind and remember Draco Malfoy is the Grey Dragon. You've heard the stories of him and for the most part they are all real. From what I've heard, you have always championed the existence of the man. Try to reconcile what you know of your hero and what you know of Draco Malfoy as they are the same person." I finished my little speech with a quick glare. Ron caught the message and reluctantly nodded. Good. It may take a while, but I know he will eventually trust Draco. That is if we get him out in time.

Time was running out and the Forgitius potion only lasts a week. We only have four days to get him out. After the potion runs its course, there will be no way to stop Voldemort from getting the information he wants and once he has it there's no doubt in my mind he will kill Draco.

I glanced over to Harry who had been regarding the maps closely. Through my entire conversation with Ron he didn't utter a word and I wasn't sure if he was amiable to the rescue of who was one of his most hated enemies. "Harry?" I questioned softly.

Harry looked up and the determination in his eyes struck me dumbfounded. "Tell me about the island," he commanded, pointing at the map. I felt hope rise in my chest. It wasn't a lost cause... there was hope! We could still salvage this, is we work quickly enough. I just hope we aren't too late.

* * *

A/N: I know this is short as well, but I didn't want to linger on this chapter too much, especially since this day is the only day I'll have to write this part. Today is my birthday and I didn't want to spend most of it working on this fanfic.

Hopefully I'll have time next next. Expect the next part sometime next week and please REVIEW! I know there are some of you who are lurkers who are hopefully reading this but don't want to take the time/effort to respond (I'm one of them!), but it would be nice if you could just put in a Yo! or More! to tell me you are reading. Please? You review and I'll try to do my part and review as well... I may not always sign in, but I'll try to review anyway!

Until the next part!


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Dumbledore explained the features of the island as he had been told to by Draco. "The guards are meticulous in searching the island. Though they have never been found, they still try their hardest to keep it that way. Five groups of 4 make their rounds at every hour. But don't think that they all go out on the hour of every hour. It's quite sporadic. One team will go out, then another and so one. Takes them approximately 45 minutes for one group to cover their specified area. You'll have to slip in at during one of those periods." 

"We have those times?" Harry questioned, his soul attention on Dumbledore. 

He nodded and waved at the maps. "Draco has transcribed everyone of them on the maps." Dumbledore smiled grimly. "It helps to be the one who's in charge of the guards..." Sighing forlornly, he tapped a several different points on the map. 

"How do we get there?" This time Ron spoke up. He wasn't done sulking after Dumbledore's hard reprimand, but there was a job to get done. If he and Harry were supposed to be on this assignment then he should have more information about it. 

"That's one of the problems. Apparation would be the best, but because of the wooded area..." he drifted off, but he didn't need to explain. Apparation may not be perfect, but most of the time it was reliable. It was just that in crowded spaces even the most skilled apparator* can get caught get slip into several pieces. "Even if you were to apparate, you'll have to land here." He tapped an empty space on the map. "But from there, you'll encounter guards here, here. That's going to be a problem since every one of them will be able to detect you because of you're use of magic. We're going to avoid all that by landing here." Dumbledore searched for the spot he was looking and for. Locating it, he jab a finger on the spot. He looked up triumphantly and waited for their reactions. 

Confused, Harry glanced at the location Dumbledore was pointing at. It was on the coast, right on the beach, but that wasn't what befuddled him. Dumbledore, only moments ago just stated they wouldn't be able to apparate due to the fact that the enemy would be able to detect the use of magic. _But how is apparating on the beach going to be any different? _"Headmaster... I'm not sure I understand..." 

Dumbledore smiled slyly. "You'll have to take a boat," he said bluntly. 

"A boat?" the two guys echoed in unison. 

"What's a boat?" Ron wondered out loud. 

"A kind of primitive Muggle transportation device that's now used for recreational purposes," Dumbledore tried to explain but the uncomprehending expression on Ron's face didn't leave. 

"Kinda like a car, but used on water," Harry tried weakly. Sometimes it was hard for a Wizard to understand Muggle terms, but at times it's harder for a Muggle to get the terms across to a Wizard. 

Slowly Ron nodded, but still not really understanding what Dumbledore mean. He had a vague idea in his mind about what this "boat" was, but it wasn't much. _I suppose I'll have to see it to understand it._

Rubbing his eyes, Harry sighed. There was so much to go over. "How are we to get to the island, sir? You say by a boat, but I'm guessing that Malos Island is as enchanted as Hogwarts?" 

"Of course," Dumbledore retorted, a tad affronted that Harry would suggest otherwise. "But the illusion only extends about 2 kilometers from the coast of the island. The range of the wizards on the island only goes as far as the coast. You'll be able to slip in unnoticed. You'll land at the location--" He tapped the spot again. "--and there you'll meet an associate of Draco's. He or she will led you to the Manor and help you in, but that's as far that person go. You'll be on your own from that point on." 

"An associate?" Ron questioned, disbelief in his voice. "He has associates?" 

"Oh quite so," Dumbledore answered. He shuffled the maps on his desk a bit, pulling the one of the Manor to the top. "Mr. Malfoy has built quite an organization of men and women who were forced to join the Dark Lord because they had no other choice." Dumbledore paused in thought. "I don't know who will be escorting you, but I've been assured that whomever it is will be there." 

Harry exhaled heavily. He didn't like how it the rescue sounded. There were parts of it that bothered him. For one thing, this "associate" of Malfoy's sounded shady. "Sir, I have concerns about this..." he breached carefully. 

"Concerns?" Ron snorted. "I have more than concerns Headmaster. How can you be sure we are not walking into a trap? For all we know, this could be a setup. Even if Malfoy was loyal to us, he could have spilled the beans on our operation long ago. How long has he been captured?" He looked sharply to Dumbledore, expecting him to supply the answer. 

"Two to three days, but Mr. Weasley--" 

"But nothing!" Ron interrupted loudly. Harry's eyes widened as he glanced at Ron. Usually people don't interrupt Dumbledore when he's speaking. "We all know how they operate. Do you really think he wouldn't buckle under the pain and pressure?" 

Dumbledore froze, his body not moving an inch. A moment of silence passed and then another, his eyes boring into Ron's agitated body. When Dumbledore still didn't speak, Ron felt the fire that was driving him earlier leave his body and he slumped down in his chair. Fidgeting, Ron's eyes darted from place to place, not staying in one place for too long. 

"Well," Dumbledore began, but stopped again. Whatever it was he was going to say seemed to have left him and silence once again reigned supreme. "Draco Malfoy has been working with us since he was 15. If he was going to betray us it would have been done years ago. You have to believe that we would never entrust him with out deepest secrets without making sure he was sincere and reliable. We've used the Veritas Serum more times than we can count to make sure he was as sincere and reliable as he was the first day he came to us." Dumbledore sighed. Rising to his feet, he turned away from the boys and glanced out of the window. "Draco is very dear to me -- as much you two are." He cracked a small smile. "You don't know how it was for him, always living a lie, his parent..." Shaking his head sadly, he tried to remember the day Draco had came to him... 

_FLASHBACK _

_"Headmaster Dumbledore?" _

_Looking up from his book he was reading, he took in the sight of Draco Malfoy, devoid of his usual veneer, insecurity rolling off of him like blue waves. He barely had time to wonder how this student had come to be in his personal quarters before Draco supplied the answer. _

_"Professor Snape gave me the password... I hope you don't mind..." Draco waved his hands around despondently, his eyes beckoning the Headmaster understand. _

_Dumbledore placed the book down and regarded the student in front of him. "Not at all Mr. Malfoy. I assume you have a important reason for coming to me at such a late hour?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. He had happened to catch the time and it was a bit late at night, too late for a student to be out of bed. _

_Draco nodded. "Yes sir." _

_Malfoy's humbled manner perplexed Dumbledore. Usually in his presence the young man wasn't as subdued as he was now. He inclined his head to tell him to continue. _

_"Sir I want to join you," Draco blurted out in a rush. "I know I've been a terrible person but after what happened last year..." He drifted off, his mind on the previous year's occurrences. "With Diggory," Draco continued, his voice choking on the name of the dead boy. "I want to help you." _

_The Headmaster was rendered silenced. He had hoped for an opportunity such as this one to happen, but he didn't think it would be Draco Malfoy to be the one. He had known from some time about the troubles in the Malfoy home, but he like so many others kept quiet about the things that've happened in the Manor. It was better to kept quiet about it because in the end they knew Draco would not stand to be mistreated any longer and would want to get revenge. At least they hoped it would like that. From what they've learned about Draco Malfoy was that he believed in his father whole-heartedly and that he had a spirit that is not easily overcomed. If Draco's father abused Draco, that would inadvertently drive him over to the other side. A loss for the Dark is a gain for the Light and during times of war, they would need all they could get. _

_"You do know who this sounds, don't you?" _

_"Yes sir," Draco answered. "You're wondering if I'm working for You Know Who and if I'm lying. I'm not. You can do all the tests you want. I'm telling the truth." _

_Dumbledore nodded. He suspected that the boy was telling the truth, but to be on the safe side he would have to verify it first before they go any further. _

_"I'll do that. But until then, tell me why you want to help us? Especially when your father--" _

_"Is a Death Eater," Draco interrupted. Wincing slightly, he added, "I know." He sighed. "Last term...it shocked me. I didn't think he would be killed...I may not have known Diggory all that well, but I still didn't want him to...die. And I don't want to be apart of something that makes me sick." Steadily, his voice grew in volume. "I don't want to be a Death Eater, I don't want to kill innocent people, I don't..." he faltered. "I don't want to become my father," Draco whispered, dropping his head. _

_Dumbledore stared at the display and was still staring at that same exact spot, long after Draco left him to his thoughts. He wondered if keeping quiet about all the happenings in the Malfoy home for so long had been a wise decision. He had seen it in Draco's eyes -- the scars, the pain. He saw that the boy was being haunted by the things his father had done to him by the dark circles under his eyes. Suddenly he was struck with the urge to apologize for being silent all those years, but he pulled himself together, he kept the impulse under control. It was silly really...to be so guilty over things he couldn't change. In his long life, he learned it was useless to beat himself over the facts of life. He could rationalize it all he wanted -- it was for the best of mankind, wizard and muggle alike, it was going to save lives -- but it didn't matter. _

_But at least his silence did achieve what it set out to do. It drove little Draco Malfoy to him and to his side... It wasn't hard to confirm that Draco was sincere... a few potions here -- brewed by their own Professor Snape and a few spells there -- cast by various other professors at the school, but not by him. No, he stood in the background, looking for every lie, every mistruth, trying to see if this was another ploy by Voldemort to worm another spy into their confidence, but there was none. When they were done, he brought the boy back to his quarters and they...talked. _

_They talked for quite a while, but it wasn't as long as one might think. They didn't talk for an entire night as the cliché went. It would be pretty hard to do as they had performed the tests in mid-morning and finished by lunch. They spent most of afternoon talking about Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and the other Death Eaters he had been in company with. With his testimony, they had enough to obtain a search of Malfoy Manor and to finally get the evidence they had been trying to obtain for years. Now all of it was falling onto his lap. Everything they had wondered and everything they needed. He had been shocked at the sheer amount that Draco knew, some of which he didn't even realize the significance of. _

_They didn't use the information, even though some itched to just put all of Draco's knowledge to use, but it was decided that if they waited and collect enough information, it would be beneficial to their defense in the long run. Instead of taking down one Death Eater or two and risk having Lord Voldemort suspect a traitor, they could get all of them in one swoop and take the Dark Lord in the confusion. _

_When Dumbledore asked the boy how he gotten all of his information, Draco just shrugged. "My father never really cared what I knew and what I heard. I was his son after all. I was raised "to be seen not heard", as I think the Muggle saying is. Parents like mine think their children aren't threats because we are breed to be silent and to keep things in the family. I'm really not special. Take Pansy...Goyle...hell," he snorted, "even Crabbe... They all know the same things, they just aren't talking."_

_Dumbledore mulled that over. It was possible that all those children of former Death Eaters were just as acknowledgeable as everybody else. _Actually_, he thought. _They probably know more than we do._ They had made the same mistake as their parents. They assumed that they were just children and they would be probably not know anything. But, Dumbledore added in his thoughts. _We also assumed they would be on His side anyway... _What Draco was suggesting was bring up new ideas and new practices that could be put into use. But first Dumbledore had to make sure he wasn't hearing right. "Are you saying they aren't affable to the idea of...becoming Death Eaters?" _

_Malfoy sighed and looked downward. "I wouldn't be able to say for all of them, but I do know a number of people who believe there is no hope but to join You Know Who's side." He quirked a sad smile. "The problem with being a Slytherin is that people naturally assume we're the scum of the earth." He looked up again and when he caught my look he blushed. "But...I...uh...I didn't...What I meant to..." Draco took a deep breath and spoke again, "I don't mean you, sir. I know you're fair enough to go beyond. I mean...after all you took in Snape."_

It was amusing to see the usually unflappable Draco Malfoy flustered so and Dumbledore could help a small smile. He waved his hand down to stop Draco from backpedaling. "It's all right. I understand, but you've got to understand not even I am perfect. I've made that stereotypical mistake once or twice in my life as well..." 

_Draco nodded and took it for what it was. They continued their talk and their plans and when they disbanded, they promised to get together soon to formulate a concrete course of action. _

_They got their little Spy and they got what they needed to take down several high profile Death Eaters, but Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder at what price. _

_END FLASHBACK _

Dumbledore tried to explain to the young men about Draco he knew, but most he kept to himself. There were some things that he didn't feel right about divulging. He did try to tell them about how Draco's early life was, the abuse, the abandonment, but they didn't seem to grasp it, but it seemed to give Harry some thought so he didn't worry too much. He knew his former pupil's actions. Harry would first think about it, think about it some more and then finally reach his answer. Dumbledore had no doubt that he would reach the right one, especially with the similarity between his and Draco's childhood and once he did, Harry would make Ron understand. Soon or later, they would all somewhat understand Draco's motivations. 

To ease Ron's mind, Dumbledore finally explained to them about the Forgitius potion. 

"It was a potion that Snape developed actually," he began. "not too long ago and has only been in use for the past few years. It's effectiveness is due to the fact that Voldemort hasn't found out about it and we've been giving it out to our most trusted operatives working within the Dark Lord's regime, hidden in hollow molars in their teeth. You know of the Death Eaters' use of cyanide? We placed the Forgitius potion in replace of the poison and no one was the wiser. It worked about the same way for the same purpose. To make sure no vital information is spilled, but our potion doesn't kill the user. It will erase your memory, rendering any torture and the Veritas serum ineffective as the recipient doesn't remember." 

Harry rubbed a hand to his cheek. "But...if it erases your memory, how do you control what it erases?" 

"We can't," Dumbledore answered grimly. "The potion wipes the last 15 years of your life. We've been working to try and to get it to just erase selective miories, but we haven't quite gotten there yet." Dumbledore paused. "When you reach Draco, he will be about 12 years old and will be somewhat disoriented after the treatment he's been through. You have to take that into account." 

Ron raised an eyebrow. If _he _had been rendered a 12 year old and was being tortured and interrogated by Death Eaters, he would be more than "somewhat disoriented". He was somewhat satisfied that Malfoy wouldn't betray them, but he still didn't feel right about rescuing who was once one of their most bitter enemies. That and the fact that Harry seemed to be taken everything Dumbledore said at face value. There was more to the story that Dumbledore wasn't saying... 

They went back to the map, going over times the guards would make their rounds and other unforeseeable consequences, but they knew no matter how many times they went over their plan, they were still going in blind pretty much from the get go. The boat, the Wizard to man the boat and the spell to get them into the vicinity of the island would go without a hitch, but once they land they would be virtually magicless. From that point on they would be dependent on another to show them the way and once they were in, even that person would leave after that. Everything else would be left to them and their ingenuity. 

Trying to plan it just so that they had enough leeway time was hard but they did it. They reach the magical border at nine in the evening -- it was winter so it would be dark enough, get to the beach by 9:15, in between the next two rounds made by the guards. They would meet their guide and take approximately fifteen minutes trekking to the Manor. The time was estimated by judging the distance from the landing point to the Manor and at 9:30 they would reach the building just as the next guards leave for their round. They were going on a day that insured that most Death Eaters will be away since there had been prior information of a Muggle attack in Singapore. 

From the notes Draco had written on the sides of the maps, they judged that it would take about ten minutes to get to the dungeons, as long as they don't run into any complication on the way. Another ten would be to get Draco out and with him, they would take from 15-20 minutes to get out of the house. They would have to tread lightly for they would be cutting the time a bit close. It would be another five minutes and then the next group of guards would be back from their rounds. Half an hour would then be devoted to getting Draco across the island and to the beach where the boat would be back and waiting. They should be able to get in and out, a relatively simple plan, but there were too many holes in which they could not prepare for until they actually occur. 

The rescue was to take place the next night, something that was unavoidable in order to be ready and by tomorrow night they would be treading upon fourth and fifth day of the potion's course leaving them only three to two days for them to get Draco out and with some many unforeseeable, Dumbledore was afraid that he was sending these two men to their deaths. But then he could be just worrying about nothing. They'll just have to see. 

* * *

*Apparator: I don't know if this is right or not, I don't remember it being mentioned... But if it was and I've got it wrong, sorry... If not, then this is a made-up term. 

A/N: Red Danish: Thank you! And by original-ish... do you mean that in a good way?

Kayla: *blushes* Aww... you flatter me... That's probably the nicest thing anyone has said about my about _any_ of my stories. I hope with this chapter I didn't disappoint.

The Perfect Drain: Nice nick, btw! I thought the title would do that and you've got it exactly right!

Anyways, this is it for this week. Hopefully I can get the next part out by next... And please, REVIEW!!! I love reviews!

A little sidenote... while formating this, I ran into a little trouble... if you noticed an old version of this had words like "remember" and "memory" were like "riiber" and "miory", I'm sorry if I confused you... I accidentally replaced "em" with "i" -- all of them. I think I got all of them, but I may be wrong. Please tell me if you spot any. Just give me the sentence, I'll have it fixed in a jify. I caught this early enough so hopefully no one has read the old draft...


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

  


Harry was quiet as he and Ron left Dumbledore's office and as they walked out of the building that served as their current Base of Operations. Never did they stay in one place too long for fear of being discovered by the Death Eaters. In past it wasn't really a problem -- the Death Eaters didn't know their opponents had a mobile Base of Operations and had concentrated on Hogwarts. It was the common belief back then that Hogwarts was the one place that You-Know-Who wouldn't dare to tread because of Dumbledore's influence there. It was the one logical place that they would place their Headquarters there and in the past it was true -- they did run every assignment, every attack and counter-attack from the school. But later when they found having one place that every witch and wizard know as the Headquarters was a bit foolhardy and a bit too obvious, they decided a movable base would be for the best. Still, they did nothing of rebuffing the idea that their headquarters was at Hogwarts. 

For nearly three years did it work until one day when the Death Eaters suddenly ceased trying to breach the school and attacked the mobile Base of Operations... They took heavy causalities that day -- nearly 22 wizards, witches were killed in the attack, the single highest number people killed at one time by the Death Eaters. It took them weeks to regroup, but they never really got over it. They moved on, yes, but never did they forget the carnage that Death Eaters left behind, each vowing to bring down Voldemort, with their life if need be.

As Ron walked with Harry side by side, he couldn't help thinking about the bombshells Dumbledoor had dropped on the two of them that morning. He shook his head in disbelief. Though he knew it everything Dumbledore had told them was true -- Dumbledore wouldn't lie -- he still had a hard time believing it to be true. Draco Malfoy, the highest ranking Death Eater, the killer of hundreds of people, the most hated Wizard, after You-Know-Who, of all time was the Grey Dragon?! The Grey Dragon who was reputed as one of the most valuable assets to the Light, had foiled countless devious plans concocted by You-Know-Who and saved so many people? How could they be one in the same? 

How could he kill some wizards, witches and Muggles and..._save_ others at the same time?

It just doesn't make sense and thinking about it was making my head spin. The smart thing to do was just avoid it, accept that Malfoy is the Grey Dragon and that he need help, but the would be the easy way out. To deny what Malfoy had done in the past would be blasphemy to all those he had killed, but in the mists of all that slaughter, he also saved so many... Many people could claim that they owed their lives to the Grey Dragon.

When the stories of the Grey Dragon first popped up when they were at Hogwarts, the stories mainly talked of plans foiled by the Grey Dragon. There was no actual rescuing where it involved the Gregon directly. People claimed to have been saved by them, but they were never taken seriously.

After a few years of saying "The Grey Dragon", the people got tried of the long name and compacted it to just "Gregon". In only a short amount of time, everybody started to calling him Gregon. 

People around the world started to wonder if the Gregon was real or not, if his exploits were as they had heard. Factions started to form, one who believed and the other that disbelieved. Those who believed argued that each tale that spoke of the Gregon popped up right after the deed was done. Those who didn't believe countered that reasoning first by saying that it was just coincidence and after too large of a number of such stories appeared to be able to ignore, amended their reasoning by saying it was some overzealous Wizard or Witch who was perpetuating the stories.

But the truth of it was that there was no concrete proof that he existed or that he didn't. Each side tried to make their point, tried to convert others of the opposing side to their side, but was all they did. 

Since the stories emerged into the public conscious, it allow an escape from the war between You-Know-Who and the side of the Light. The Gregon gave the people hope again -- even to those who didn't exactly believed for they also, deep down wished it could be true. The arguments between the two sides of the issue also gave the people something else to think about the war the was claiming so many lives on both sides of the conflict. The war, which has been going on for close to a decade has claimed over half of the Wizarding community.

It was never a very heated debate. Usually both sides would state different reasons for believing the way the did and when they found themselves stalemated, they usually disbanded, thinking the other side was nuts not to see it the way they did.

Between Harry, Ron and Hermione it was the same way. Ron argued for, Harry against and Hermione undecided until the time comes with concrete proof of his existence or not. Some nights when they were wearied from the fighting, the death and the heartache, they would debate the existence of the Gregon.

Ron quirked a small grin remembering the conversations they had in the past. Now that he thought about it, it was pretty lame, a feeble attempt of blocking out the hardships that seemed to want to choke them. But they did have fun and that was the most important thing.

He glanced at his silent friend beside him. Furrowing his forehead in worry, he contemplated about Harry. He had been overly quiet during the PreOp when usually he was the most vocal -- making sure everything had been covered so there would be no accidental death occurring, but this time he only made the smallest comments, his thoughts to himself. And now, when usually he would be excited at the prospect of thwarting Vol..Volde...Voldemort, he's as silent as a church mouse. 

"Harry...are you okay?"

Harry glanced up abruptly and his eyes registered Ron hovering by his side. For a moment there he had been lost in his own thoughts, but from the silence on the walk away from their Base of Operations, he wasn't the only one who was woolgathering. _But I doubt he was thinking about the same thing I am_, Harry thought acerbically.

He could hardly concentration during the Pre Operation, his thoughts already starting to drift towards a certain silver haired Death Eater. 

Dumbledore had spoke of abuse and mistreatment by his parents and spoke about some of the things that Malfoy had done as the Gregon -- not that he needed to. Though he didn't believe, he had heard most of the stories, just like everybody else. It wasn't something you could avoid very easily.

Ron didn't seem to care about Malfoy's rotten childhood and the problem was the that he _did_. It shouldn't care how Malfoy's early life was, he should feel anything but pity for the miserable sod, but he did. And that scared him the most.

He had expected understanding -- his abuse at the hands of his parents would certainly explain the sarcastic facade, using biting comments to hurt others to mask the hurt he was feeling inside. It would even explain why Malfoy would want to join on their side even. But it wasn't understanding alone that he felt. If anything the understanding was tinted with confusion and bewilderment, but then was anything involving Malfoy was never simple.

When he heard that the Gregon existed, he had felt surprise and shock, but that quickly dispersed and he accepted it, just like any good soldier. Being the war so long, one accepts the odd and question the normal. But when he heard it was Draco Malfoy, he couldn't accept. _How can I accept the figure exists and not the person behind the figure?_ he questioned, not understanding anything. He knew Ron was most likely facing the same thing, if not more so. The Gregon was his hero and to think that his most hated enemy is really the Gregon has got be a bit shocking.

Who was he kidding? It has got to be a lot shocking. _He_ wasn't as dazzled as Ron was about the Gregon and he was feeling like he was hit by a truck.

He moaned softly, bring a hand to his face to rub his eyes. He had been addled too long and it was showing. Knowing he had to answer Ron's question sooner or later, he sighed and gave his friend a small smile. "I'm fine."

The disbelief on Ron's face told him that he didn't believe his admission and he tried to reassure him. "I really am, seriously. I'm just a little tired that's all," he countered lamely. He really didn't feel up to explaining his feelings to his best friend, no matter what people say about talking. Talking will not help ease his soul, talking wasn't going to help and when are people are going to get he didn't want to talk?!

He glanced at Ron. He still didn't believe that he was okay and Harry groaned under his breath. He recognized that expression. He wasn't going to stop until Harry gives up and explains. 

He went through his options: he could either tell Ron about his turbulent emotions or he could change the subject and hope that Ron would get the point that he didn't want to talk. Either way, he'll probably end up telling Ron about his feelings, something he rather not get into. _How am I supposed to talk to him about my feelings when I'm not sure of them myself?_

"It's just this Malfoy thing, you know?" Harry began, skillfully change the subject only a millimeter, but just enough to take it off his personal feelings. Thankfully Ron nodded, accepting the change without even knowing about it.

"It's got me a bit jumbled. Do you remember the attack few years back, against Ambassador Schen's children?"

Ron nodded. That one would never be forgotten. Death Eaters, lead by Draco Malfoy himself kidnapped the Israeli Muggle Ambassador to the United States' children. Nasty people of work they wrought on the eldest child, a taste of things to come. For years Voldemort had tried to disrupt the Muggle world though a variety of political and commercial adventures. With many of the most powerful nations having a capitalist society and he having some of the most powerful -- and richest Wizarding families in both Wizard and Muggle standards -- working for him it was easy to manipulate the world. 

The Schen Almost-Tragedy as it was called now was one of those ventures. The idea was to disrupt US relations with Israel, causing an almost Domino Effect with the rest of the Middle East. They had kidnapped her children, held them in the guise of American Nationalist and tried to get her to break relations off. Of course she would never follow through and initially she didn't crumble to the threat, but after... Ron shuddered, remembering what they had done to her child. Eviscerated, dismembered and disfigured her and then took pictures of the end result. All this in front of the two younger kids, one who was only four years old.

After Schen saw the pictures it was understandable she cracked. A blubbering mess she was, but she managed to get herself together to comply to the Death Eaters' demands in order to save her children. What she didn't know was that the pictures were being released to Semitic Extremists who were begging something as juicy as the Schen children kidnapping to justify their anger. Though the Islamic people and the Jewish people have been at odds, no one could ignore the horror they felt at the acts perpetrated by the men they thought to be Americans. It started the Domino Effect, each little country, outraged by the act of violence broke relations, cutting off trade. Most of the Westerners didn't pass judgment against the US though -- they were still cowering from the US' powerful arms.

With the Middle East cut off from the US, the American's went through an oil shortage and they started to drill in Alaska, despite the environmentalists' concerns. They needed oil and they needed it fast. The shortage did have something good benefit from it. Without oil, people started to search harder for a replacement and that eventually led to the discovery of Nocardi, an environmentally safe fuel source, cutting down the level of Carbon Dioxide by over 95%. Nocardi is now being used by most of the developed nations of the world.

But the reason why the incident was now being refereed as the Schen Almost-Tragedy was the fact that the other two children survived, a little worse for wear, but alive. They had saved them, thanks for a tip from the Gregon about the whereabouts of the kids. They killed the Death-Eaters -- not Malfoy, he wasn't there when they attacked, but now it makes sense that he would be smart enough not be -- and saved the children. They were American Wizards as the children were being held in the Oszarks. That helped relations a bit, Americans rescuing kidnapped kids by supposed Americans. Over time, things returned to normal -- the US being too powerful to be ignored and to be on the bad side for too long.

"Who could forget?" Ron joked, not liking the seriousness of the conversation.

"Then you remember how Malfoy caused it. It took us two weeks to find where the Death Eaters were holed up and even then we had to have the Gregon -- Malfoy himself! -- to tell us where they were!" Harry's voice was steadily getting higher and higher and by the end of the dialogue, he had stopped walking and was waving his hands. 

"How could he do something like that! He instigated the damn thing and he turns around and ends the bloody event, like a savior! What game is he playing? Why?!" Harry raged, turning away and growling his frustration. "I just don't get it!"

Ron stood silent. This was the most emotion he had seen Harry allow himself to indulge in for a while and it was fitting that it was because of Malfoy. The stupid bastard always had a way of getting under their skin and even after nearly ten years of being absent in their lives, he still was as frustrating as ever.

"I don't know, Harry," Ron responded quietly. "Maybe you can ask him when we get him out tomorrow."

Harry stilled and turned back to face Ron. He gave him a hesitant smile, but it was a sincere one. "Thanks." 

The little word thrilled him. Harry wasn't just thanking Ron for the suggestion, he was thanking him for so much more. "You're welcome," Ron answered in return. "Don't mention it." He gave Harry a nod of his head, showing him he did understand.

"It'll be odd though. The Forgitius potion..." Harry trailed off. Smirking, he mused out loud, "I wonder how he'll be like?"

"Malfoy?" Ron asked as they started walking again. He shrugged. "Who knows. Probably as arrogant as ever. He was a horrible prick even back then. Why would he change?"

Silently Harry agreed with Ron's assessment. "But knowing how the Dark Lord operates, he's probably scared out of his mind." Thinking about an abused, tortured Draco tugged on his heart and he had to swallow the pity he felt for the man.

"Like I said, I don't. You ask me, I think Malfoy would land on his feet. He'll adjust. It is one of his more better traits."

Harry thoughts were drifting again, trying to remember what had happened when Draco was 12 as he would only have memories up to that point. It would be before Voldemort's rising but after the Sorcerer's Stone debacle. The Gryffindors would have usurped the House Cup from the Slytherins as well...

_He wouldn't know his father is dead_, Harry thought with a jolt. The death of Lucius Malfoy certainly wasn't current but he was still alive back then. Harry could only imagine the helplessness Draco would be feeling if he found out his father was dead all of a sudden. It was given that he would ask for his father during this time, probably after he had gotten over the shock of being in a grown man's body.

_He wouldn't recognize us_, Harry thought suddenly. Draco would still think of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to be 12 year olds, just like himself, not grown up men. Chewing on his lip, he hoped that wasn't going to complicate things when they finally reach him.

"Harry!"

Harry was suddenly brought back to himself as he realized Ron was trying to speak to him. "Sorry," he spoke sheepishly. "I wasn't paying attention."

Ron rolled his eyes. "No, really?" He sighed. "What I was saying was the Hermione's been at my back, telling me she hasn't seen you for a while."

"I've been busy!"

"I know and she knows too. Ever since she's gotten that job with the Ministry and us with Dumbledore, we've been moving apart. She wants you over for dinner, to rehash old times."

It had been a long time since he last saw Herm... He nodded and asked, "What time?"

"How's about tomorrow? Right before the rescue. I mean who knows if we're coming back?"

Harry stared. _Did he just say what I think he said?_ Deciding to ignore it, he told Ron that tomorrow was a good time. _It would be nice to have us all back together again..._

* * *

A/N: This is the second time I've tried to get this up and hopefully it worked. Doing it as a .doc document really isn't the best since I can't get it to do italics and such.

I'm sorry I took so long to post a new part, but this part was a bit stubborn. Hopefully (have you noticed I love the word "hopefully"?) the next part is more forthcoming.

I finally have a beta reader and she (at least I think it's a she...) pointed out that Dumbledore was spelled D-O-R-E and not D-O-O-R as I had it. I soon as I can, I'll get the betaed parts up of the other previous chapters. Thanks, Red Dragon Order!

I hope this chapter wasn't too long winded... It's not one of my bests and I really don't like it much.

Red Danish: *blushes* Oh my... Wow. I don't think I'm worth that praise though... I'm still not sure what you mean by originality, but thanks! But the Harry/Draco cliched stories are kinda nice... Most of them have their own little quirks that makes them enjoyable... And I'm not sure if I don't fall into the cliched category just yet... There's a chance that I might be a little cliched -- but not to the point that Draco is a blubbering idiot who needs Harry to survive. I may like to read those stories (well some of them), but MY Draco ain't like that.

Amaiko: *raises eyebrows* F*cking awesome? Well I don't think it's that good, but thanks! None of my stories has ever been called that before. :)

Luca: Hope this helps. And thanks for the review!

Wow... these are getting long... Just a few notes: Red Danish, you said something about cliched fics and I mentioned up there that it might be. I just want to let all you out there who are out there and reading this fic that this is not going to be BAM! Kiss and then declarations. It's going to be a bit slow and gradual. I believe they need time to discover their love and to realize that it's there. I do believe in true love and I think their love is one that will last 'til the end of time... Woah... that does sound cliche. Next part due next week. Until then!


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Swept. That was how she felt. Swept. Swept away, lost, without purpose, whatever you wanted to call it, but it's true. _It's funny really_, she thought. _Here I am, saying I have no purpose. I, of all people, feel as if I have no purpose._ If it was so damned pitiful she would have laughed, would have ten years ago. Back... back until HE found her, nurtured her and helped her see things clearly for the first time in what seemed like ages. For that alone she owed it to him.

For so long she, and so many others, were as she felt now, lost and without a cause. They only felt desolate and despair, knowing that there was no way out, no way to escape except for that last, final leap, but they were all too chicken to do it. That was what made them different from the others, bonded them together. While They would have sought release from it all, they stuck it out, too afraid to do the noble thing but more terrified of what they would see on the other side or what wasn't there. Their only thought on survival, nothing more. He changed all that. Gave them purpose, gave them something to do, gave them back the hope that was pulled out of them so long ago.

Now...after all that's happened over such a short period of time, she knew she would have to act. They wanted to her to stay here, twiddling her thumbs while they tortured and hurt him and wait for the infamous Harry Potter to come and save their butts. _Fat chance_, she thought, glancing to the other side of the room. He was so peaceful, his face relaxed and without the wrinkles that had plagued him so. 

_It's quiet_, she realized, so accustomed to hearing the screams and the shrieks of the men and women being tortured on the island. It was as if they knew who was in their presence the last few days and it was for His benefit that it was so blissfully silent.

It sickened her to see him like that -- thrown in a heap against the wall, his face bruised, the clothes on his body bloodied. Though you could hardly tell that the blood had seeped through his black clothing, the puddle surrounding him was a give away that he was soaked.

At first she had tried to deny it, that it wasn't happening. He had promised that he would never get caught and if he did that there would be hope. Thinking back, she could remember his silky voice telling her that nothing could ever go wrong. He planned everything to the tiniest detail, always with a contingency plan -- it was how he worked. And he spoke with such conviction, one could not help being lured into his world, his mind and seduced by his voice. When people heard him speak, they could help but be persuaded by him. But in truth it was no more him than any other person. The only reason why he got people to follow him was the fact that he never gave up, never thought they could ever lose. It was that fervor that convinced the most people that they could actually succeed. There was never any doubt in his mind.

And they loved that, the people. Here was a person willing to risk his life so they could have somewhat of a normal life. He gave them hope that they too could rise up and defy a being that had been revered in terror for so long. That was how everything began.

Sure there was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived as the Wizarding community so fondly dubbed him, but to them he was nothing but an image. As a child he defeated You-Know-Who with the love of his mother and as a young adult he triumphed over the Dark Lord year after year. But to those who knew him, went to school with him saw nothing within him that made him special. He was a boy, just as they were. Though he might have tried to hide the fact that everyone -- well nearly everyone -- thought of him as a savior, they all knew that he secretly loved it. Who wouldn't?

And even though they had known him, been in contact with them, Potter never took the time of day to even acknowledge they existed. Of course they were Slytherins, but one would think the great Harry Potter wouldn't fall so easy with hearsay and stereotypes. But he did, just like the rest of them. _They are all fools!_ she snared, remembering the scorn, the dirty looks. Couldn't they see? 

The sad thing was that they didn't and what was worst was that they never tried.

That perhaps laid the groundwork for him to rise up. He took what had been under the mighty Gryffindors' -- and Dumbledore's, or so they thought -- thumb. He knew what it was like to be judged on a daily basis and found lacking. He understood, he saw.

She hadn't known that she loved him at first. Sure, she did her part, played the ditzy and none too bright girlfriend because they were expected to be together, but she never expected for her to feel anything that was anything but two people who had common goals in life. Then, slowly, it crept upon her, undermining her abilities -- and at the same time shocking her a great deal. She never really had friends, never had any close relationship with anybody and when it suddenly happened they had became friends, she almost didn't recognize it. To finally have it scared her the most because no matter how strong he was and how much he believed that everything was going to be okay, she still had silent doubts. She could never bear it if she had to lose him. To her they were friends, colleagues and partners, but somehow, later on, their somber relationship grew to be more. She had never had siblings and neither did he so none of them knew what it was like to feel like they belonged. Together they felt that their somewhat skewed made sense. She cared and loved him like a brother and in many ways he was more her family than any of her relatives. So there was no chance -- none -- that she was going to entrust the person that matters the most to her to Potter and his idiot friend. Glancing over to the body, the slow up and down movement of his chest, she whispered, "No chance at all."

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione cried, pulling her friend into a big hug.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry greeted quietly as she released him. "Where's Ron?" he asked, taking a look around the flat. It had been a while since he last visited, but the place still looked the same.

"In the kitchen, cooking," she answered distractedly. Taking a look at her old friend, Hermione noted the subtle differences in Harry's appearance. The boy that was once her friend and childhood companion had grown up and was apparent. The lines near his eyes were clear, as were the bags under them, revealing that he was sleeping. You could feel the fatigue radiating off him and that alarmed her. How was he going to do what ever he was going to tonight if he wasn't at his best?

Hermione Granger Weasley was no fool. She graduated top of her class and grabbed an illustrious job within the Ministry. Though her and her husband's paths diverged long ago, she held no illusions that what Ron was doing in the War was anything but safe. He had chosen -- as Harry -- to go under Headmaster Dumbledore's guidance and whatever that had him going out late at night and back at all times of the day couldn't be good.

She respected Ron's decision and he did hers. But that didn't stop her from worrying. She remembered the things what they had gone through back when they were still at Hogwarts. She knew firsthand that threat that Voldemort posed, both from first hand experience and from detailed reports they had gotten from their operatives. 

Rising in the Ministry was not hard. She worked hard, dedicated herself and she succeeded. It also helped that the War was taking so many lives and that there was a shortage of good women and men to work behind the scenes. She helped plan, helped think up of ways to thwart the Dark Lord and his plots to purify the world. And because of her dedication, she kept on rising and rising. There was very little that she wasn't privy to now.

So she knew what Ron did, even though he didn't talk about it. She knew the dangers involved and she knew, somewhat, what the men in her life were feeling.

Ron was the love of her life and she knew she was his. They had each other to rely on, but Harry... Harry had nobody.

For a while he had Aislynn and it seemed as if things were looking up. Harry was in love, this time reciprocated, the Dark hadn't made a move in months with no major deaths. Everything seemed to be great and they relished the uneventfulness of their lives. After so many years of things happening every other second, disrupting their lives, a little of nothing was greatly welcomed.

But then she died... _The damn bitch!_ Hermione thought, wanting to snarl out loud. Even the thought of her made her skin crawl. She hadn't found out about it for years afterward, but when she did, it blew away all the misconceptions she had about the woman. It was clear that Ron didn't know about it -- he still spoke of her fondly while Hermione had to resist the urge to yell and bare teeth like a savage at the mention of her name. 

Harry was a bit harder to tell though. Whether or not he knew was never in the reports, and speculation was all she had to go on. After the funeral, Harry seemed to retreat into himself and refused to mention Aislynn at all. It was as if he denied her existence. 

The hard part was that his silence could be interpreted in several different ways, each in opposite directions. Just when Hermione thought she figured out if Harry knew the truth, something would pop up to contradict it.

Hermione let out a soft sigh as she pulled the man who was just in his embrace into the flat she and Ron lived in. Nearly five years they had lived in the medium, one bedroom, one bath flat and still they haven't moved into a house. Almost immediately, as the thought seized her, nagging her on the reason why she and Ron haven't taken the next step yet, she closed her mind, shutting the thought out. Now was not the time to think about it.

She looked back at her friend and motioned him to sit. When Harry made no move to, she reached out and pulled his unresisting body down to the sofa. "So," she began, with no real direction in mind other than to put him at ease. "What have you been up to?"

Harry shrugged, still silent.

It scared her that after all they had been through together, that they couldn't talk to each other, but it seemed as if everything was like that these days. Everybody was hiding something, everybody wasn't talking, everybody knew something but never the people who needed to know. It frustrated her that everything seemed to run in a damn circle, no beginning and no end. It's been so long, she can't even remember a time when the threat of Voldemort didn't loom over their heads.

She needed to open him up and to get him talking. This could be her last chance to talk to Harry alone, before he and Ron went. "What's Dumbledore got you into? Ron's been telling me you and he need to leave tonight."

Harry's eyes narrowed and it pained Hermione to see it. She could see it in his eyes. He was going to lie to her. "Nothing special," Harry responded evasively. "What..." Harry paused, his voice catching on his throat. "What exactly did Ron tell you?"

Hermione leaned in closer and glanced at the door separating the sitting room and the kitchen. She could hear the clanging of the pots and the makings of Ron's little puttering. "Nothing. He's told me nothing." She fixed Harry with a hard gaze. "That's why you are going to tell me everything."

Harry started, his eyes wide as he stared at Hermione, but she didn't relent. "Nine years, nearly ten," she argued softly, just out of range of the kitchen. "You and Ron have been doing this for _nine_ years and I have stood by and took everything you had to throw at me. I've waited for you and he, stood in the sidelines because you refused my help and expertise and _waited_ for word to come back that you have been killed or captured because of your foolishness. This is not a game -- No, don't talk," Hermione interrupted, raising a hand to keep Harry from speaking. "Listen to what I have to say and then you can speak. I know you are probably thinking that you don't consider this a game and I know you don't. Even if you did you would have abandoned that long ago. I have waited for you, shed tears for you and I have ached for your return every time you've gone out for another of Dumbledore's little missions. Now I want you to tell me what it is you and Ron are going to do tonight." Hermione ended her little speech with a little puff. Looking at Harry she could see he was a tad bit shocked and just a little dumbfounded.

Regaining himself quickly and with such an ease that amazed Hermione, Harry turned his eyes onto her and Hermione felt herself hold her breath. He was alert now, wary and cautious, wondering what had brought the little tirade. This was who Harry Potter was, a strong, passionate man, but not to a fault. You could see his eyes calculating every move, every word and it struck her how much Harry resembled another great and powerful man, one who was just as passionate and just as guileful. 

Now was the real test -- would he tell or would he evade? _What does he take me for?_ Hermione questioned, wondering if what he said was true. _Does he really not see me? Does he really believe I could be such a fool?_ She stilled, waiting for the answer, both in anticipation and dread. Scared that if she moved, she would ruin everything she had built up that night, she sat motionless.

After what seemed like hours of she sitting still and Harry contemplating his answer, Harry finally slumped back into the seat and sighed. Rubbing his face, he peeked out through his fingers. "It's a rescue mission."

Hermione let out her breath in a rush, letting her knew she had been holding it in the first place. Up until then, she didn't really know how much four little words could mean to her. She was so relieved that she missed a part of what Harry was saying.

"...the Gregon, right? Well he exists. I know it seems mind-boggling but it's true. The Grey Dragon is real and every story we've heard is true as well. The bad news is that he's been captured and we need to get him out. He's one of us and he had information we need. That's what tonight's all about, Herm, that's all. It's really a routine assignment and we'll be back in tomorrow," Harry tried to ease. "I'm sorry for keeping all this from you," he apologized profusely. "But you know how Ron doesn't like to worry you... And their was the secrecy issue..." Harry drifted off, not being able to think of any more excuses.

She tried to give him a big smile -- to show she wasn't mad or upset, but it ended up just as a little weak one instead. Resting a hand on Harry's arm, she soothed, "It's okay really. I understand -- well, most of it. It's just that --" she broke off and jump up onto her feet.

Walking around the room, she paced and stopped right in front of Harry and turned to face him. "It's just that I couldn't take it any more. You and Ron have been working for Dumbledore and have been working on all these things that you refuse to talk about, shutting me out completely and I...I just didn't like it. It made me feel as if you and Ron were harboring this big secret, that I could never be apart of it."

Harry got up and walked over to where Hermione was standing and this time it was _he_ who enveloped _her_ in a hug. He had never meant to make her feel that way and he was sure Ron would never deliberately hurt his wife that way. He pulled away and looked into Hermione's eyes. "I'm sorry."

Hermione moved away from Harry and after a moment turned back. "I know you are," she sighed. Letting go a big breath, she tried to explain, deciding that this was the moment to come clean. "Everything's just been so screwed up lately...especially with Draco being caught like that..."

* * *

A/N: This took a lot longer than I thought it would but I think I have to face it... One week is now going to be two. There are too many things in my life right now and a 2 week (but hopefully it doesn't take _that_ long) period would give me a lot of room.

WildfireFriendship: I wanna read about a 12 year old Draco too... I'm sorry I didn't get to it yet, but it's coming...

Rerisu: Making Draco just sudden appear as a spy is too easy. Besides, what I like is the story behind it all, why he does what he does. To me no one does anything without reason, even the choice of doing nothing is not without reason. I hope I make sense...

Amaiko: Like I told WildfireFriendship, you'll have to wait a little longer. But be assured, it's in the next few chapters...

We'll that's about it. As always, thanks to Red Dragon Order who is probably my most fastest beta reader.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

  


"What?" I asked, slowly and drawn out. My eyes search her face, but it betrayed nothing. She was staring at me, her sole attention focused on me and nothing else. Though Ron might find this flattering, to _me_ it was bloody unnerving. 

For a few moments before, right after her little sigh I saw everything, every little line on Herm's face, every worry and I could see the exhaustion that was plaguing her. And then, all of a sudden it was gone -- as if someone had just turned off the lights, Herm turned off her emotions to the outside world. 

In the past she had been unreadable, but she wasn't beyond making her feelings known. You could always tell when she approved or disapproved without her ever saying something but there were always times where she hid herself, when she didn't want to be read. This time was different though. I don't think she was doing it deliberately though... 

When Herm had learned to hide her feelings so adeptly, he didn't know and it shocked him to find out that there were aspects of Hermione he didn't know about. She, who was one of his best friends! _Did this happen over night? Was it always there or did she develop it? Why didn't I see it before?_ His mind was going in twelve different directions at once and each leading to the same conclusion: He didn't know his friend as well as he thought he did. 

Glancing over to the door that led to the kitchen, he briefly wondered if Ron knew about this aspect of his life. Almost as soon as that thought came to him, he dismissed it. _He would have mentioned it to me,_ Harry rationalized. 

He swallowed hard as Hermione's deliberate laying of the truth. _**"Everything's just been so screwed up lately...especially with Draco being caught like that..." **_-- yes, he thought it was deliberate. After so many years of being with the Ministry and with the War, he couldn't believe that Hermione could be so careless and she was anything but. 

"I'm so sorry Harry," Hermione tried soulfully. "I hadn't meant to tell you like this..." 

"Tell me what?!" Harry exclaimed loudly, not following. Immediately he looked over to the kitchen area and lowered his voice as he demanded, "What are you talking about?!" First she drops the bomb with telling him she knew Malfoy had been caught, then this roundabout thing about telling him something that he still had no clue about. 

Hermione breathed in deeply. "I've been with the Ministry of Magic for a long time, yes?" 

Still confused, Harry nodded. "From the end of the seventh year." 

"Nine years is a long time to devote one's time, Harry. You can't have been that naive to think that in nine years I could have stayed in the same position without advancing." 

"Well," he stammered, not really have considered that idea. He supposed he should have known Hermione would have been promoted and he remembered times where the three of them had celebrated a promotion, but most of the time he really hadn't thought about it. 

"I may not have been living the glorious life fighting Lord Voldemort like you and Ron were, but still contributed," Hermione continued. 

"Of course," Harry quickly agreed. "We always knew you were doing _something_, just not what it was exactly."

"Do you know what my job title is?" Hermione asked curiously. 

"No..." Harry reddened at not knowing a piece of information that in all respects should have known. 

Hermione waved it away as if it was nothing. "No matter. Currently I am being known as the Head Operative in Charge of Covert Operations, but that just means I plan and I supervise the different missions the Ministry had going, with the exception of Dumbledore's little operation," she explained. Dumbledore had always been an exception in the Wizarding world and so exempt.

Harry stayed silent, content with letting Hermione tell her tale. There was nothing he could add, nothing he could contribute that wouldn't just hinder her. 

"About four years ago I was let into the secret of the Grey Dragon. I was shocked to say the very least to learn who it truly was," Hermione laughed weakly. "Probably what you felt when Dumbledore explained the truth to you today. From that moment on I was designated as Draco's "handler". He reported directly either to me or to Dumbledore." 

Hermione paused and Harry took the initiative to interrupt her with a question that was plaguing him. "Why you?" It didn't make sense to him. Why Hermione of all people? There were a lot more qualified people in the Ministry -- not to say Herm would have made a bad job of it, but what made Hermione so special? During their Hogwarts days, she and Malfoy weren't exactly buddy-buddy. 

And there was the fact that Dumbledore had made it clear that Malfoy had went to _him_ for help and not the Ministry of Magic. The line between Dumbledore and the Ministry was great -- for years Dumbledore had worked outside of the Ministry's scope, though he did abide by their rules. There would be no reason for his Dumbledore to let the Ministry into one of his ventures. 

Hermione gave him a ghastly smile, chilling Harry to the bone. Never had he seen that type of grin on Hermione before, making him wonder if he really knew this woman who he'd called friend. 

"We are not idiots," Hermione retorted. "Do you really think Dumbledore could have kept this from us?" 

Harry didn't answer, only shrugged, neither confirming or denying. But the truth was that he did. Dumbledore have done so and many times before so it surprised that something like the Gregon that was so case-sensitive would have been found out by an outside party. 

"Dumbledore was very good at keep it a secret," Hermione began again, deciding to keep how the Ministry found about Draco Malfoy as a spy for Dumbledore for another time. She wasn't exactly sure if it was hers to tell Harry. "And for years we didn't know about him, but his existence got to selected circles." Thinking back, she added, "About the same time as the stories of the Grey Dragon leaked out to the public."

_Not a coincidence_, Harry thought, storing the information for later. Now was the not the time to dwell on every little thing Hermione told him, especially when she was giving him subtle clues with every breath. 

"When we found out the truth, we hounded Dumbledore for information and we demanded to be part of the operation. He finally agreed and we work in tandem, but for years we didn't do much, only gathering information that Draco had passed onto us. But as to your earlier question there's a simple answer -- Draco wanted me. He asked for me specifically. But I don't really know why --" She paused, her voice catching. Adverting her eyes for a moment, she clear her throat and tired again. "Just that he did." 

Harry didn't miss the slip but stored it away as he did with the earlier clue Hermione had hinted. He sat silently, regarding her. She was calmly relaxing, as if nothing could bother her. How she could be so collected while he was so nonplused was beyond him. 

_How could she have kept this from us?_ Harry wondered, hurt at this betrayal. For years Hermione had kept her secrets to herself, not once confiding in one of them -- and Ron was her husband! In the past she would have came to them first, above all else, now... _What happened to us? Did things between us have gotten so bad that she would willingly keep things from us? _Hurt, Harry looked away. 

Hermione grabbed Harry, forcing him to look at her. She could see the emotions warring on his face -- betrayal, hurt, shock -- they were all very clear and evident. In a lot of ways he was still the righteous little boy she once knew, so very easy to take offense at the slightest hint of gray. And he had always been so expressive, unable to hide his emotions. As he grew older, he had gotten more and more adapt at hiding his emotions, a trait that served him well in his line of work. Still Hermione knew Harry from way back when and she still knew what to look for on his face. 

Although she felt a slight ache in her chest at his reaction to the truth, she understood that he had a right to be. It was one of the reasons why she put of telling either of them for so long. But as she understood what Harry was feeling, she could only hope that he understood why she had done as she had done. 

She quickly cast her eyes to the kitchen door. _Ron_, she thought with a sigh. Even after so many years of loving him, his name still made her heart flutter, making her feel like a schoolgirl with her first crush. It was incredibly clich\'e9, she knew, but it was how she felt. Every glimpse of the man made her pause, her breathing suddenly labored and a hard knot at her throat. It was silly, it was irrational, but love is silly and it is irrational and even though it makes her feel so insignificant, she wouldn't trade it for anything. Her life was so much more with Ron in it and she knew that the moment Ron doesn't walk away from one of his little missions from Dumbledore she wouldn't want to keep on living. There would be no purpose. Hell, she had only taken the Ministry job at Ron's insistence and the only reason why she had worked so hard at her job was the hope that when Voldemort was gone, they would all be free. 

"Harry," she murmured. "I'm sorry if this was a surprise for you, but I'm not going to apologize for keeping my work from you and Ron." 

Harry's head snapped back to Hermione, his eyes searching hers but Hermione refused to be intimidated. Instead of cowering, she looked straight into Harry's eyes, trying to convey that she was telling the truth. "I did what I had to do and I still believe it was the right thing. Telling you or Ron might have jeopardized everything we had worked for -- everything that Draco had worked for. This was his life -- he would have been devastated for all of it to fall on him if word had gotten out that we had accidentally let the cat out of the bag." 

"It's a bit too late now, isn't it?" Harry questioned sarcastically. Whether Hermione like it or not, the truth had gotten out and now Malfoy was captured. 

He tried to understand what Hermione had told him and the reasons why she felt she had to keep the truth from her best friend and husband. But neither he or Ron would have let something of that magnitude out on accident and that Hermione thought they could... It just made him feel sick. He didn't know what to think any more.

"I couldn't take the chance Harry," Hermione spoke strongly. "I know you -- or Ron wouldn't tell, but if I did there's always a chance that someone would find out from one of you." 

"You didn't tell either of us and they still found out," Harry argued. 

Hermione sighed. "I know. I know." She swallowed hard and stood up. "That's why I wanted to talk to you, before you go. No one has ever made it to Malos Island and no one has ever made it out of Malos Manor alive." 

"Don't you think we know?" Harry retorted, a bit annoyed at Hermione for stating the obvious. But with one look to her face showed him that she was seriously worried. "Hey, don't worry," he reassured. "We aren't exactly just somebody." They were the Boy Who Lived and Ronald Weasley, his best friend. They were know for being able to do things normal people wouldn't be able to do. The stories about them almost rivals the ones about the Grey Dragon. 

Hermione sighed. "I know. That's why Dumbledore would trust you to rescue Draco and why I'm hoping you'll get out of this alive." 

Harry pursed his lips. "Yesterday I got the feeling that Dumbledore regarded Malfoy fondly..." 

Hermione nodded. "More than fondly. Dumbledore has probably been the only constant thing in Draco's life. They've connected in many ways and I know that Draco feels the same way for Dumbledore." 

Harry's eyes widened as he contemplated how that sounded and almost as quickly as he came to his conclusion, he dismissed it, chastising himself for even thinking about it. "How?" Harry asked hoarsely. 

"How what?" 

"How does Draco feel for Dumbledore?" 

Puzzled, Hermione shrugged. "I don't know... we haven't really talked about it but I got the feeling that he looks up to Dumbledore -- like a father," Hermione answered, oblivious to the torment inside of Harry. 

He didn't know why, but the thought of Draco and Dumbledore... He shuddered at the thought, wondering what had possessed him to think of the two of them together. Determined to put the thought away from his mind, he tried to think about other things. A deep clash ringing from the kitchen brought his head up, reminding him of Ron who was just in the next room over. Abruptly, a question came to his mind and he wondered how Hermione was going to tell Ron. 

"I'm not," Hermione answered firmly, startling Harry. He had not realized that he had spoken out loud. Halting Harry's protestations she calmly explained that she didn't want to ruin what she and Ron had, not when this could be his last night on this world. "Wouldn't it be better if Ron died happy and thinking there was nothing wrong than for him to die carelessly wondering why his wife had vexed him? Besides," Hermione reconciled, "If you two do make it out safe then we won't have anything to worry about and I'll tell him then." 

Harry opened his mouth to speak more but at that moment, Ron chose to pop out of the kitchen. 

With a big grin on his face he announced that dinner was done and it was time to eat. As they piled to the dining room table, no one noticed Ron's lingering gaze on Hermione nor the raggedness of his person. 

* * *

Running her hand through her hair, she stalked the grounds, making her rounds. She did this every night ever since she had been posted here on the island. Draco had gotten some strings pulled to get her here -- an ace in the hole, he had called it. Remembering his voice with a bittersweet smile, she tried to decided whether or not to do as they had told her. 

When it came to Draco and his advisors, she was up there at the top as his most trusted confidante, but she wasn't the only one. For the most part he relied on nobody but himself, but he still had people whom he knew could be trusted. People who were just as dedicated and would do anything for the cause. They manage the trivial things that didn't need Draco's constant attention. 

_Who are they_, she fumed, _to tell me what I can and cannot do?_ It wasn't right. _I have dedicated my life to taking You-Know-Who down! I have sworn my allegiance to Draco, and Draco only. If they think that gives them the right to tell me what to do..._ She couldn't continue the thought, red spots appearing in her vision, an indication as to how upset she was getting. 

Grabbing the sides of her cloak and pulling them so they covered her body more tightly, she trudged on the dirt path towards the pair of guards on the lookout for intruders. _They've got no right!_ she thought furiously, repeating herself. Enraged she tried to think of the different ways she could kill them, harm them and hurt them. The possibilities were endless. _One little well placed remark to You-Know-Who..._ she thought speculatively. _And a little planting of evidence... It would be so easy_, she relished. Licking her lips at the thought, she closing her eyes in pleasure. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes again, disappointment gleaming in her eyes. She knew that if Draco got out -- and he will if she has anything to do with it -- he would rely on them to pass the information on. They would be the ones continuing his work and he would need as many of them as he could get. It was too bad really. She was looking forward at hurting one of them. Sighing, she thought wistfully, _I could always hope one of them is a traitor._

Her eyes hardened as she thought about the subject that was plaguing her: how You-Know-Who had found out about Draco in the first place. Though that it always had been a real possibility that one of them could let something slip and get caught, that it would be Draco Malfoy, the leader of their movement who would be the one who was caught... They had never really thought it possible. 

They had planned for it, Draco insisting upon it even through their objections. He hadn't been that deluded to think that he could be infallible and had relentlessly drilled into their head that no one was perfect and soon or later they would mess up. And when they did, they would have a plan for it because they had the foresight to think ahead. 

He had been so commendable, so powerful. He knew how to plan and he knew how to bide his time which had made him a great leader. While the Wizarding world had the Grey Dragon to look to, they had Draco. Why anyone would want to betray him was a mystery to her. 

Mentally she ran through the list of potential people who would lack the backbone to turn Draco in. Sadly she had found too many people. Too many people in their organization were afraid of death, afraid of torture and most of all, afraid of You-Know-Who. Most of those who hadn't been with them for that long were still not dedicated enough to die for their cause. 

Putting her thoughts on hold for a moment as she neared the duo of guards, braced herself, putting her persona on as one would put on a shirt. She walked straight up to them, regarding them with a disdainful eye. Her mouth settled as a sarcastic quirk as the two wizards tried to act as if they detected her appearance, even though they had not. How they had missed her was beyond her. She had been walking down the path for a good five minutes, long enough for them to spot her. They were young, she observed, and judging from the way they trembled it was clear that they were afraid of her. _Good_, she thought with a satisfied smirk. _They should be._

"Have you seen anything?" she roughly asked. 

They shook their heads no. The taller one of the two shifted his feet and ventured a audible reply. "No...no ma'am. No one."

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at the two of them incredulously. "No one?" They nodded. "What about animals? There could be animagi." 

Stricken, the two tried to recall if they had seen any animal. "No...I...I...don't...don't think so," the other stuttered. 

She was not amused. If she had really cared if there had been animagi or people sneaking onto the island she would have been incensed at the stupidity of the two guards. 

"You don't think?" 

"No ma'am. There was nothing." 

They sounded more confident this time and if she wasn't in a hurry to leave she would have pursued it further. "Fine." She nodded to the two of them, both looking relieved at being let off the hook this one time. "And this time?" They looked at her expectantly. "Don't worry so much about your girls -- worry about your lives because the next time I find you not fulfilling your duty..." She left the rest unsaid, just walking away, content that she had made her point. 

One look at her watch told her it was ten 'til eight and she continued on her rounds, her mind back on the "favor" Draco's most trusted associates had asked of her. They knew how she felt about the matter. They had no business involving Dumbledore's prize team in the rescue of one of their own. They should be doing it themselves -- after all, they were the ones who had the most to lose if the potion wears off. 

And then they had the audacity to ask her to lead the two men through the island to the Manor. She was the only one on the island and she being so close to Draco, they said, made her the obvious choice as well as the only choice. She had to help them, they argued, Draco would have wanted it. 

_Ugh!_ she cried in frustration. _She_ wanted to be the one who rescues Draco. _She_ wanted to exclude the Weasel and the Boy Who Lived. Yet _they_ wanted her to help them rescue him. 

She didn't know whether or not to do as they said. They were right about one thing and that was that Draco would have wanted her to help the two of them. For some reason he had always had the utmost respect for the pair, but then again it could have been his admiration for the old man that clouded his feelings. They were, after all, Dumbledore's treasured team. 

She hadn't known about the rescue that Dumbledore had concocted until that day -- she never really dealt with him personally. It was always someone else or Draco that he had communicated through.

When they had planned for if Draco _had_ gotten caught all those years ago was nothing much. He always said that if he got caught, he would be taken care of and that he would be rescued -- just not by them. It wasn't much of plan, but Draco insisted on it and since they never really believed that he could be captured, they didn't give it much thought. 

She had been planning Draco's rescue ever since he had been transferred over to the island and now that the two outsiders were going to but in, it was going to mess up her plan to get Draco out. 

Yet, she could just leave them on the island unsupervised. They could end up causing more troubles for her that way. The dilemma was making her head spin and as she wandered the island, thinking of the different reason why she should and why she shouldn't guide Potter and Weasley. With every reason, she thought of the different scenarios that could happen if that were to take place, but her mind kept going to back to what if she wasn't there to guide the two. It would most likely endanger Draco himself, endanger her as well as endanger their whole operation. If they were caught they would be a danger to their side of the movement, in turn hurting her side of it. It could cripple everything they had worked for nearly a decade. 

Her mind still undecided and her eyes unseeing as she tried to make up her mind. Once look at the sky told her she better make it up soon. Potter and Weasley were due to arrive in the next hour. 

* * *

A/N: A bit longer this time... Hopefully this time I'll be able to upload the HTML version...

WildfireFriendship: About the first section... _I'm_ not sure who the person in the first section is either, but I have a thought. :)

SoulSister: Thanks! I'm glad you think so, but I can assure you, I'm only okay.

Amaiko: :) Hopefully this slightly longer chapter makes up for the wait.

Dak: Well, we're getting there.

Let's give thanks to my beta, the beta who made me posting this today happen. I sent it to her this afternoon and within one hour she returned it. Isn't she quick? Next chapter is due when the next chapter is up.


	8. Chapter 7

****

Chapter Seven

"Thank you Hermione," Harry thanked as drew her into a hug. 

They were all standing in her living room and were making their good-byes. The dinner had been stilted; they had said what needed to be said before. Ron had tried to get them to loosen up, but after a while he stopped trying. They settled down to a quiet dinner, light conversation, talking about everything except for what was on their minds. When it they finally finished, they were each thankful.

It wasn't that they didn't have anything to talk about -- it was more that they had too much that they _couldn't_ talk about. And with the eminent task at hand, they were to absorbed to be bother to make light conversation.

Hermione leaned into the embrace and turned her face so that she could whisper into his ear. "Make sure you both come back to me alive." Pulling away, she looked into his eyes, demanding he comply.

Heartened by the plea, he nodded his assent. "Don't worry, Herm. We'll be fine." He gave her a bittersweet smile. 

Hermione then turned to her husband to say their good-byes. Feeling a bit out of place, Harry turned away. He didn't feel comfortable intruding on their intimate moments, feeling like a voyeur sneaking a peek at what was unattainable to him.

As he waited, he felt a strange pang in his chest as he thought about what Hermione and Ron had. It was times like these that he really envied his two friends. With a life like his, it was hard to maintain a romantic relationship. Ron and Hermione had practically grown up together, knew they desired each other before the war -- it was the basis of their life together. He on the other hand didn't have that sort of connection with anybody. His Hogwarts days were some of the best times of his life but right after graduating he was thrown head first into the war and that had been where he had focused all of his attention to. 

Nine years he had devoted all of his time to fighting Voldemort, making sure he never got too powerful or making sure the Muggles never find out about the magic community and he was only 28 years old. He was too young to feel world weary...

It had been to long -- to long since he had felt happy, genuine happiness. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since he had last felt unbigoted, when he had not a care in the world. Every day there is something to do, something that needed to be done or had to be done now. He couldn't even remember a time where he had nothing to do.

Hermione and Ron broke apart reluctantly, each knowing that this mission is like no other that went before it. It was suicide, they all knew it but avoided saying it. Somehow hearing it out loud would make it more real and more tangible. So they blissfully denied it, pretending that this was just a routine mission and that they would be back the next day. They all knew it was bullshit and they were all too aware of the situation. You can't argue with facts and facts were that Malos Island was a death trap. No one gets on it without getting caught and no one leaves alive. How they were going to get onto the island without being detected would be a miracle.

A glance to the clock told Harry that it was nearly eight o'clock and that they better be leaving soon. Harry turned to see the couple still holding hands and he sighed. He knew it would be hard for Ron to leave his wife, but this was cutting it close. He cleared his throat loudly, breaking the two up. Ron looked downward sheepishly and then gave Hermione a kiss, promising to be careful.

Hermione turned away at that point, not wanting to see them depart. Together, both Harry and Ron apparated to the dock that their boat was supposed to be moored.

Ron took a step forward, glancing around the dark wharf. He had never been to one of these before and if they weren't already late, he would have taken more time to look the place over. Though he didn't share his father's fascination with anything Muggle, he still was curious as to the different things Muggles had invented over the years. It amused him to look at all the weird ways Muggles try to cope with a magic-less life.

"So," Ron spoke, breaking the silence. "Those are boats?"

Harry gave him a slight nod. 

Ron looked around the marina. It was pretty well-lit place even though there were none of those lights that ran on that so called "electricity" so there was no need for the Lumos spell. The moon was out in the cloudless sky, a rarity in England during the winter. Its beams of lights were shining towards the earth, hitting the rippling water of the sea and glinting off the sleek white sides of the boats. Unconsciously, Ron hugged the sides of his cloak closer to his body. He was going to be traveling on a boat. On water. Swallowing nervously, he didn't know whether or not he liked that notion. _Why we couldn't have just apparated close to the border? That would be a lot easier!_ This reliance on a Muggle device had him uneasy. 

He wasn't the kind of person to think less of the Muggles. _Unlike some people_, he thought scornfully, thinking of a certain blond hair Death Eater.

Catching what he just said, Ron's eyes widened. He had just made a gibe at the expense of Malfoy. _He_ had just made a gibe against _Malfoy_. Breathing deeply, he rubbed his eyes with one hand. _This Malfoy thing must be getting to me more than I thought..._

* * *

Harry walked ahead, searching for the Nautilus, the name of the boat that was supposed to be taking the two of them to Malos Island. It was nowhere to be found, but they still was a lot more boats they hadn't seen.

Harry stopped abruptly, realizing that he had left Ron behind. Turning back, he looked at the still figure, wondering why he had suddenly stopped in the middle of the pier. Harry got to Ron just as he was bring his hand away from his face, his features sagging and a quiet resignation in his eyes. 

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, getting straight to the point. He didn't have time to dally -- they were already late as it is.

Ron opened his eyes and stared at Harry. He opened his mouth to reply, but found he didn't know what to say, so he closed it. Opening it again, he spoke in a slightly clipping tone. "Fine. Where's the Nautilus?"

Wondering what had gotten into Ron's little head, Harry blinked a few times, taken aback at the sudden caustic remarks from his friend. It wasn't like him. Deciding not to comment, Harry gave an wave down the pier. "It's down the way," Harry said instead. "I hadn't found it yet, but it's bound to be here somewhere."

Ron motioned for him to proceed and Harry stalked ahead, making sure that this time Ron was with him.

They had been walking a few moments, when they spotted a tall man waving from the bow of one of the smaller boats. As they neared the vessel, they could see the name Nautilus written in a gold, loopy script along the side.

"You the two Dumbledore sent?" the man yelled out.

"Yeah, that's us," Ron cried out right back. "You Reynard?"

"That's me." Reynard ambled his way towards the two of them, stopping right in front of a small, portable ladder. "Come on up."

Harry without delay climbed up on the tiny craft, but Ron just stared at the little step ladder with detest. He finally gingerly climbed in, going slowly and making sure that his footing was secure with every step.

Harry grabbed the forearm of Ron and pulled him the rest of the way up after seeing how long it was taking for Ron to climb just a measly six steps. 

Ron cried out in protest and when he had both of his feet on the deck, he pulled his arm from Harry's hold. Glaring at him more in embarrassment than fury, he barely had time to stay angry when the boat gave a quick lurch. He had almost been knocked off his feet but at the last second, he grabbed a side wall and righted himself. Harry had not been so lucky and Ron had to hide the grin at the sound of Harry's body hitting the deck and the grunt of shock. 

When he was sure he wasn't going to fall down again -- the boat was going at an alarming speed, but that could have been normal for all he knew -- he strutted over to Harry and got down to his haunches. "Need a hand?" he asked with a smirk.

This time it was Harry who was glaring at him and his offered hand. Rolling his eyes, he slapped Ron's proffered hand one quick motion and got up himself. "Stupid captain...didn't even give us a warning," he muttered under his breath.

Ron gave a smug look. He was enjoying this very much. It wasn't often that the Boy Who Lived was made a fool of. "You okay?"

Harry winced, but nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, brushing off his robe. "Where's Reynard?"

Ron craned his neck, pointing to a dark, wooden door. "Through there I think. I'll join you I think," he mused, looking past Harry to the bow and listening to the waves crashed onto the boat. His stomach was turning and churning, making him feel just a bit lightheaded. _Oh God... I hope I don't lose it... _

Harry eyed his friend cautiously. He was just a bit too green for his comfort. He had heard that boat travel wasn't favorable to some people. Remembering back, Harry could remember one summer when the Dursely's had taken their vacation to the Mediterranean. He had been nine that year and when Mrs. Figg was unable to baby-sit and Dudley being dead set on the trip, they had taken him along. Why they didn't just leave him alone had always baffled him, even to this day. But they hadn't and in the end, that had been one of his most enjoyable trips ever. It had been worth all the verbal bashing, all the grief he had to take from his Aunt and Uncle during the trip just to see his horrible cousin chuck up all the food he had eaten, not being able to keep a bit down. What had been even better was the fact that they were on a week long cruise. The 24 hour buffet had been what had first attracted Dudley and it was ironic that his seasickness had him scared so badly that he refused eat, missing most of his meals. Not that it did anything to thin him out. Not even a week of fasting could help that kid. "Maybe you should," Harry said quickly, grabbing Ron and pulled him into the bridge. Ron didn't even fight him off, telling Harry that Ron really must be sick -- he wouldn't put up that sort of abuse if he weren't. _Hopefully not having the waves roaring in your ears and not seeing the water would help him..._ Harry thought, remembering that it had helped Dudley somewhat.

Once inside the small room, he looked the place over. It was pretty much Spartan, a small coffee table, a couch and picture of a small sail boat was all that was there. Reynard was up front, ensorcelled in his work. He had barely spared a glance when they had entered.

Not bothered, but a bit annoyed at being dismissed like that, Harry quickly led his friend over to the couch. It looked comfortable enough and the best thing Ron could be doing right now to keep the nausea down was to lay down.

"Come on, Ron," Harry coaxed. Ron didn't need much persuading, almost falling onto the couch. Harry gave Ron a critical eye, wondering if he was going to be able to carry out the mission. It was dangerous enough without his partner being sick.

"Don't worry Harry," Ron softly commanded. "I'll be better when we get on the island," Ron said, almost if he knew what Harry was thinking. _But then again, maybe he did, Harry thought with a smile. _

"Sure, Ron. You just rest." Harry didn't know it was possible but Ron seemed even more green than he was when he was outside. Noting with pleasure, Harry could see some color returning to Ron's face. Ron's eyes closed and Harry was suddenly without anything to do. The trip was going to take a good three quarters of an hour and that was a long time to be idle.

He turned a head to stare at Reynard. He had barely said ten words to them. _Can't be a chatty type_, Harry supposed. 

He couldn't help but be suspicious of the old man -- it was how his mind worked these days. He knew nothing about the guy, beside his name. Dumbledore had not elaborated about him and that this point he didn't know if it was deliberate or if he had unintentionally kept it from him. _Hell, there could be nothing that he's keeping from me!_ Harry thought, running a hand through his dark hair. He knew was being paranoid, but ever since Hermione had spoke of Dumbledore's bond with Draco, he had started to wonder if he had that sort of connection. He should...should he? He had known Dumbledore longer than Draco, he had worked with Dumbledore longer -- at least he thought he had -- but he couldn't say that he knew Dumbledore well enough for him to say that he had a father/son relationship with him. _How the hell did that happen?_

And now, this Reynard character. He knew Dumbledore trusted that man and that would have been enough for him in the past. Now, he wasn't so sure. _What sort of man was Reynard that Dumbledore would trust the location of Malos Island? Does he even know where we are going? Is he one of Malfoy's "associates"?_ His mind was full of a thousand questions, none of which he knew the answers to or how to get them.

Slowly, he saunter over to the motionless man. Harry looked over the dials and knobs, but didn't have a clue as to what they meant. "So," Harry drawled conversationally. "How long until we reach the island?"

Reynard turned his head to regard him coldly and suddenly Harry felt stricken and out of place. Shifting his feet, he wasn't sure that Reynard was going to answer him until he heard his gruff voice.

"Twenty minutes 'til the border, thirty until we get to shore." The old man gave Harry a rounded look. "That satisfy you?"

Harry nodded absent-mindedly. He didn't understand this man. Wherever he had went -- if there had been wizards or witches present -- they had all known about Harry Potter. Most of them were in awe of him, be it man, woman or child. There had been very few who had received him badly and those who did were on the other side. 

He wasn't as ego-driven as some of his enemies had thought him. He didn't care either way if people hated him -- he had dealt with that sort of behavior during his time with the Dursely's and he got through it. But he did like the fact that it made everything easier when people were bending over themselves to impress him. They trusted him blindly and they didn't keep anything from him. 

Reynard was different though. Reynard was an unknown and he didn't seem like the type of person to trust blindly, even if he was the Boy Who Lived. _How am I going to open him up?_ He knew nothing of this man and when you know nothing about someone, it made it hard to strike a conversation with them. He didn't want to ask his questions out right. No matter what, he wasn't that vulgar.

A loud sigh interrupted his thoughts, followed by Reynard's resigned voice. "I know you've got questions. Best we get them out in the open."

Harry blinked, shocked. He wasn't aware that he had been broadcasting his thoughts. "Well...uh...okay," Harry fumbled, not really sure where to begin. All the questions that had been plaguing him had all conveniently flown the coop. Silently cursing himself, he searched for a question. "I didn't think you would be so forthright about this..." 

The other man turned away, checking his monitors, but before he did, he could have sworn Reynard had muttered 'just so you could leave me alone'. Slightly flustered, Harry requested, "Tell me about yourself. Dumbledore didn't say much about you."

Reynard snorted. "Don't imagine he did. Never did like him much, even when I was a child."

Latching onto the last comment, Harry asked, "So you went to Hogwarts?"

Reynard nodded. "First child in my family in over five generations. We have a long line of squibs. Hell, I thought I was Muggle until my parents told me about our little skeleton in the closet."

"My father had been a fisherman," he continued. "My great-great-great-great grandfather had been the first. He was the black sheep. Even though he married a witch, his children -- all seven of them -- all squibs. After that the family cut relations with him and they basically lived as Muggles. No one talked about our family. There were rumors for a long while, that our family was cursed, damned. We grew up with people saying we were the devil's minions, that our family was as dark as the night sky. Didn't believe it a word of it until the letter arrived. I thought it was a joke until my father told me the truth," Reynard spat bitterly.

"It must have been a shock for you..." Harry trailed off. 

"Hell yes." Turning away from the controls to face Harry, Reynard stood face to face, looking him straight in his eyes. "Do you know how it feels like to have a whole community shy away from you? All my life I believe it was they who had it wrong, that they were close-minded idiots to believe that sort of nonsense. It hurt me that my father, my entire family kept the truth from me."

"Why'd you go to Hogwarts then? It seems to me that you would have refused it."

The old man gave Harry a bittersweet smile. The moonlight was passing through the glass, bouncing on all his angles, making him too hard and sad at the same time. "I almost didn't. I'm not sure to this day why I did. Maybe it was to spite my ancestors that had spurned my forefather all those years ago or maybe I just wanted to see this world that I had been cut out of. Either way, I decided to go and that's all that matters." He finished with a growl and looked away.

Harry calmly regarded the old man, digesting his words. He was sincere, he could just feel it in his bones. But there was something more -- something that Reynard wasn't telling him. Studying the old man in front of him intently, Harry could see nothing, absolutely nothing that could clue him into what it may be. He was calm, collected, reminding him of someone else he knew. It was almost as if Reynard was devoid of emotions. That or he was very good at hiding them those around him.

Harry wasn't as skilled as he was or so he found out when Reynard leaned forward for effect. 

He chose his words calmly, making sure he could get his determination across. "I know you think I'm keeping something and I'll tell you now that I am." Harry was startled that Reynard would be so candid, but his shocked face didn't stay long. After a beat it easily morphed into an indifferent expression. 

"But so are you for that matter Potter. I can see it as easily as I can see the shadows in your eyes. You have seen too much in your life, more than you should have seen and I'm willing to bet you haven't told your friend over there--" He nudged his head towards Ron's prone body. "--everything." 

His face still betrayed nothing, but if one were to look closer at the tall, young man during Reynard's little speech you would have noticed that slight intake of breath, the absolute stilling of his body. His words drove a cold lance through his heart. The old man's words were a bit too perceptive for Harry's tastes and the leveled look he was giving him was unnerving him.

But Harry neither denied nor confirmed Reynard's speculation. Either way would give that man too much information and at this point Harry needed all the leverage he could get over him. It was a battle of wits and subterfuge -- a game he too often played.

"That maybe so," Harry handled smoothly. "But this isn't about me."

"No," Reynard interrupted. "It's about me. You can trust me," Reynard swore vehemently. "I may not _like_ Dumbledore as much you do, but I respect him. I won't endanger this mission -- there's too many ways for you to screw it up as it is. Plus," he paused for a moment. "I owe Draco Malfoy my life and I will _**never**_ betray him." His eyes bore into Harry's, demanding him to understand. "Understood?"

A curt nod was all that answered him. Reynard took it as his due and turned away, effectively ending the conversation.

Feeling a bit bereft at the sudden break, Harry stared at Reynard's back, wondering if that was it. Somehow it seemed empty. He was satisfied at the sincerity of Reynard's commitment and that had been all that he had wanted from the other man, but there was so much more he wanted now. There was something in Reynard that just begs to be questioned. _Why doesn't he like Dumbledore and how did he come to respect him? What did Malfoy do to gain Reynard's trust? Just how did Malfoy save him?_ He wanted answers and his curiosity was pleading to be let lose. 

But it didn't seem as if Reynard was going to be talking. They had formed a tentative trust at the most, based on common goals, but that was all. All his questions will have to wait until later -- if they survived.

Harry gave Reynard's back one last look before moving away himself. He glanced to see if Ron was well and it seemed as if his friend was asleep. With nothing to do, Harry made his way outside, hoping the fresh air would do him good.

The frigid blast of wind hit him unexpectedly, causing him to suddenly involuntarily shudder. For a breath moment he thought about going back into the inviting warmth instead of braving the icy, frosty air outside. _Heat inside or the freezing air outside?_ Harry mused. He looked back at the unforgiving backside of Reynard and the immobile body of his friend. _What am I supposed to do in there?_ he thought with a decision already made. He quickly stepped outside, noting that he had already let too much of the heat escape.

He strolled aimlessly around the boat, rubbing and blowing into his hands, hoping to warm his frozen digits. As he round the corner at the bow of the small boat he came upon a small railed deck with a good view of the ocean as they sped further and further away.

Harry stepped up to the rail and rubbing his hands one more time, he placed his hands on the rail, trying not to wince as he felt the bite of the cold metal. But still he held on, looking down at the ripples of water as the boat ripped through the water, disturbing the calm.

They were running silent, a small spell masking the boat while its running in the water. But they were still detectable by radar, but it was doubtful that Voldemort would employ submarines or other ships in his army. 

Harry sighed, but it seemed as if he had been doing that a lot lately. _Too much, too damn much..._ Too much responsibility, too much on his mind and spirit to bear. It was all too damn much. There were times where he wondered what it was all for. To help thousands of people he didn't know, the same people who revered him. That was enough to keep him going -- the knowledge that people out there _depended_ on him and _needed_ him. They _loved_ him. No one had depended or needed him before and there wasn't a damned person who had much less loved him. 

But, and that was the but that kept him questioning his motivations. But those people, no matter how they held, how they felt about him, _didn't_ know him. They knew the legend, the story of the Boy Who Lived. Even now, at twenty-seven years of age they still referred to him as a _boy_. Ron and Hermione knew how much he had grown to detest the name, each time it was mentioned reminding him of what he didn't have and what had happened all those years ago that had ripped his parents away from him. God what he wouldn't give to have them here with him...

All those years, all the longing he had felt as he looked into families and wondering why he was the unlucky one, why he didn't have what seemed like the rest of the world did. 

_It would have been nice..._ Harry reflected. _I wonder what my father would say about this situation? A most hated, now ex-enemy captured in enemy territory, taken back to his pre-teens. And me, going to rescue him after he had done so much wrong...just because he has vital information that we need. Isn't this one a kicker?_

And then there was Reynard. Should he trust him? He shouldn't, not blindly, but _damn!_ He still did, no matter what his brain was trying to tell him.

Reynard seemed to be a simple man, but one who takes everything to the extreme. He had been raised a fisherman and it seemed as if he was, even after finding out he was a wizard and years of studying magic. He handled the small boat with ease, showing years of experience. 

His words echoed in Harry's mind as he recalled Reynard's words to him earlier. _**"I may not like Dumbledore as much you do, but I respect him."**_ He did understand where Reynard was coming from. A war makes it hard to be choosy about the people you work with. No matter how you feel about a person, you can't allow it too interfere with how you work together, there were bigger things to worry about. And when it was your lives on the line, you forget petty things like you disagreed with his policies or his points of view.

And then there was the passionate vow that he would never betray Malfoy. Harry snorted and suddenly started to cough as the unexpected cold air was allowed into his body. Calming back down, Harry tried to think how exactly did Malfoy saved the life of Reynard. It was a bit inconceivable to think that Malfoy could save anybody's life.

But then again there were all those stories of Gregon rescues... All those people who had claimed to have been saved by the Grey Dragon himself. He, like the rest of the magic community had dismissed them as glory seekers, but now knowing that Malfoy had the capacity within him to actually _help_ a person, even as unbelievable as it may be, gave their accounts of a gallant man rushing to help them a new perspective. Could it truly be true? Draco Malfoy a rescuer of women and children? 

Despite of all that, Harry couldn't help still dismiss the idea that Malfoy might actually have a forgiving bone in his body. The Gregon was the one who had done all of those -- if he had done then at all. That Draco Malfoy was the Gregon shouldn't matter a bit. He was still the same Draco Malfoy. 

A scary thought then came to mind as Harry looked up from the rippling waters to the nearly full moon, its brilliance blinding him. _But is the Draco Malfoy I knew the real Draco Malfoy?_

* * *

Groaning softy, Ron shifted uncomfortably on the too small couch. He hadn't been sleeping when Harry had looked into him, only resting his eyes for a bit. For some reason _not_ seeing the ceiling and walls dance before his eyes helped quell the sense of uneasiness in his stomach.

But there was still the occasional flip-flop that would still churn the juices and made him feel slightly lightheaded, so he opted for not getting up. The thought of _actually_ seeing the waves crash onto the boat was enough to keep him down.

_I can't believe I'm being so stupid!_ Ron raved in his mind, furious and embarrassed that he was behaving like a weak female. He silently sent his wife an apology for that comment. 

_And in front of Harry too!_ he groaned. That just made it worst. It didn't matter that Harry hadn't in the least bit minded and that he had been concerned for Ron's well-being. But still he couldn't help feeling abashed at the display.

They had worked together for years and they were the best of friends. He felt Hermione was his best friend, but the friendship he shared with Harry was different. He loved Hermione dearly, more than anything in the world, but with Harry, he loved like a brother, much more so than his siblings of his own flesh. There was a kinship between Harry and him that was unlike any bond he had ever felt before.

It had taken him awhile to find out that Harry, though he was the Boy Who Lived, he was just like everybody else in the world. He was flesh and blood, had feelings and could get hurt. He was mortal even though in so many other people eyes' he was anything but. He was best friend to the Boy Who Lived. That had meant so much to him before (and to be truthful, he still tripped over that detail). He was Harry's best friend, yet he had felt such uncontrollable jealously whenever he had been with him. It had taken him a long time to get over that.

He knew he should have been glad for Harry but what he knew he should have been didn't matter a bit when it was Harry who had the adoration of thousands, more money than Ron could ever _dream_ of and when he was everything Ron wished he could be.

So he kept it inside, trying to convince himself that what he felt was wrong but at the same time letting him eat from inside out. For the longest time he couldn't understand Harry. He had everything, absolutely everything that Ron would have killed and died a dozen times over to have yet Harry would give it all up for what Ron had, a mum, a dad and more siblings than he knew what to do with (and having six himself, he couldn't see what was so novel about that).

That infuriated him. _How dare he want to give up everything I would see my soul for? How dare he want a run-down house of a home and annoying brothers and sisters instead the devotion of thousands? How dare he want what I have when I have nothing and he has everything?! Everything!_

It gnawed at him, poisoned him and despite efforts to dispel the feelings, they remained. It would have been easy to say that at first he had been jealous of Harry but as their friendship progressed, the feelings subsided, but that wasn't how it happened.

Even though he felt such contempt for his best friend and thought that Harry was one of the most moronic people on the face of the earth, he still felt such joy that Harry was one of his friends. He loved Harry like a brother, much more so than his real brothers. Harry was a brother in everything but blood and Ron would have given his life without a single thought if it could save him from certain doom.

It confused him sometimes to have such conflicting emotions. On one hand he felt an all consuming anger against Harry and on the other hand Harry was one of the people on this plane of existence that he valued most in life. Feeling one at a time would have been reasonable, but he felt the two emotions at the same, _freaking_ time.

Harry was his best friend. Took him a long time to see that what he had wasn't so bad after all. What he had was something special and it was only after he almost lost it all to make him see what a fool he had been.

* * *

A/N: It's been a while hasn't it? Well this chapter was long (I'm not even sure it's done yet!) and long in coming. 

WildfireFriendship: Well I don't think I've ever been asked that before or in that way. Draco as the uke... hmmm... I don't know. I'm a bit tentative at using labels. Generally I don't like labeling one person the dominant member of a relationship and the other as the passive. Equality for all! As for your question, you'll just have to see.

Amaiko: You'll have to see later too. It's coming... It's coming, I promise. :)

Okay, just a small question. What color do you think of when you read this story? How does it make you feel? :) I guess that was two... Please tell me! I want to know how this fic is coming across!

Well that's it for now. As always review, review, review! And thanks to Red Dragons Order for betaing. You're a darling!


	9. Chapter 8

**

Chapter Eight

**

  


It was true what they say. It takes losing it all to make you value the things you have in life. Now, years after the event he was still having nightmares of the fucking year he had spent caught between two worlds. An existence of his own making, a personal hell that had been created by those bastards to torment and break him.

Looking back at his capture he could only wonder what made him believe the lies they spouted. But then his all consuming grief had overtaken him and everything seemed so _real_. 

Those awful looks, the pitying eyes and those damned condolences. They had acted as if one small touch or wrong word would bring him off the edge. He could still remember all the apologies, the words intertwining with snatches of memories.

_We're sorry to inform you..._

It couldn't have been helped. I'm sorry. If we had gotten wind of it in time maybe we could have...

We couldn't reach you. Please understand, you've been in incommunicado for weeks. There was no way to get to you in time...

And Harry's voice, dripping in sympathy, telling him that he would deal with it, telling him that the pain would ebb with time. But he didn't want to deal with it. His whole world had been snatched away from him and he couldn't see any way out of the darkness that he felt. And then Harry had to go on to say it wasn't as bad as it felt. It was as bad and worse. Ron could remember thinking how the hell would Harry know what he was going through and it was at that moment that he realized that Harry did know. Harry had lost everybody that he loved, but what was different from Harry and Ron was that Ron had friends -- what were remain of them to help him through it.

But he had been too consumed with the pain and his grief to care about his friends good intentions. Suddenly, without warning, everything he knew and loved was gone. Noting else mattered. Nothing.

He had immersed in his sorrows, wallowing in booze and anything else to take the pain away. He had isolated himself and retreated, not caring about anything anymore. What was the point? He had nothing to fight for anymore. His friends, his family, his beautiful wife...they were the reason he fought. Without them there was no reason to even care who lived or died. Not when he wanted to die himself.

The limbo he had been in ended, eleven months, twenty-eight days later, nearly a year he had spent there. How he had gotten out was a blur in his memory. He had been pretty doped up during that time. All he had now were flashed that came to him every one in a while, but he had no definite memories of his time at Faugwa.

After he had gotten out he had pretended that it was the Grey Dragon who had been the one to save him. It was as plausible as any other explanation of his escape. The Gregon was his favorite hero after all. With no hard facts about his rescue escape from Harry of from his memories he was free to believe in whatever he wished. After all, there was no one to tell him false, was there?

He wanted to say that his time spent at Faugwa hadn't changed him, that he was still the same Ron as he was before. God knows his friends and family had gone out of their way to make sure they didn't treat him any differently. But the problem with that was that it did change him. It made him realize how he felt about the people closest to him and how much more he hated Malfoy. His capture was pure Malfoy -- only he could have thought of something like that.

But now, knowing what he knew...

And now he didn't know what to think. The man to be his savior and the man who was responsible for the year in hell was one in the same. _How the hell do you reconcile the two of them?!_ He really didn't know.

It was annoying to fell so conflicted all the time. To deal with one issue only to have another pop up demanding attention. It was times like these that made Ron long for the simpler days when Harry was good and Malfoy bad, You-Know-Who evil and afraid of Dumbledore. Now it seems like that good weren't so good, the bad not really that bad after all, but still bad. Just thinking about it made his head spin -- even more so than it was at the moment.

Ron breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. The gentle rocking of the boat was something he could do without. His stomach was still on the fritz and his head felt as if it had been slowly filling with air and was about to explode under the pressure. He didn't want to leave the comfort of the sofa but he knew he had to talk to Harry -- figuring out this dilemma was going to need more than his thoughts on the matter.

Cautiously he sat up, carefully not to move too suddenly in case of another bout of vertigo should over take him. He turned his body and then maneuvered his legs over the side of the couch until his feet were firmly on the floor. Ron got up, holding his arms out to steady himself. When he stilled, he still didn't feel to steady on his feet.

Unsteadily he wobbled his way towards the door to the outside. He had hoped that Reynard would pay him no attention but it wasn't that way. Just as he was about three paces from the door he heard Reynard's beckoning voice.

"Hey! Weasley is it?"

Ron paused and turned. The craggy man was staring at him expectantly. "Yeah," Ron answered. 

"You going out?"

Ron rolled his eyes. _Why does he have to involve himself?_ He had heard the talk between the older man and Harry. He knew about Reynard's history and while he didn't mind that he was practically a Muggle-born -- his wife was of Muggle descent after all --, there was something about a long line of squibs that didn't sit well with him. "Yes, I am."

"You shouldn't. But if you are, tell your friend to get on inside. It isn't exactly safe to be out on deck when we're getting closer and closer to Malos Island."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it isn't safe to be outside. Do you really think they would leave the waters near the island unguarded?"

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember if they had broach the subject of something in the sea protecting the island. _But we should have,_ Ron realized. 

Reynard went on. "From the specs Draco's been giving us, we know that they at least have hydras, one or two charybdises and maybe a scylla. We don't want one of them getting a hold of you even before make it to the island."

"Charybdis? Scylla?" Ron questioned, trying to remember if these were some of those magical animals he was supposed to have known about.

"Never read The Odyssey?"

"The what?"

"I guess that answers my question," Reynard muttered, not bothering to be discreet. "Kids these days..." He sighed. "A charybdis is a sort of magical sea monster that at certain times of the day open up and becomes a whirlpool. It's hell to get out of and unfortunately for you, the next time it opens up is coming up. We should reach it in..." He glanced at a clock on one of the boat's panels. "Fifteen minutes. A scylla is something different though. A nine-headed monster that would just love to snatch you up with it's long neck and eat you alive. Nasty little things, they are. Just in case we happen on one of them, it'll be safe for you to be indoors where they can't get to you."

Ron shuddered, thinking about being gobbled up by a sea monster with nine-heads. _Doesn't sound like a good way to die..._ "Is there anyway to kill them? Or at least disable them so we can get through?"

Reynard looked thoughtful for a moment, but then answered, "They aren't invincible Weasley. How would you deal with an evil Wizard? You deal with a sea monster the same way. But there are some other things to consider. There are ways to kill them and then there are ways that they can kill you." A smirk settled on his lips and Reynard took a few step closer to Ron. "The trick is killing it, while not helping it kill you." 

Ron glared at the old man, not liking the roundabout ways he was telling him to do his job. But he forced himself to endure it. While Malfoy had given them detailed information about island itself, he failed to mention about the waters around the island. 

Seeing that Weasley didn't understand by the blank look in his eyes, Reynard chuckled softly to the fury of Ron. "Take the hydra. When you sever a hydra's head, two more pop up in it's place and if you go after a scylla, you'll have all the heads after you. A charybdis is somewhat hard to fight, but a stilling spell should be able to stop it easily, but it's a bit hard to concentrate on a spelling when it's sucking your boat and gushing water at you like a broken faucet. Just keep that in mind when you're out there, all right?" He smirked again, his eyes filled with humor. "We can't exactly have you failing Draco." And with that, Reynard turned away, the conversation clearly over at his end. 

Ron glared at the back of the old man, his mind full of curses directed at him. _No word about our safety. Just bloody Malfoy! _

He calmed down a bit and after checking that he had his wand on him, Ron started towards the door again. Only this time, his steps were a bit less confident, his mind on the danger that lay in the waters in front of him. A tad anxious, Ron looked at the door that lead to the deck with apprehension. His sea-sickness was just getting worst and not for the first time he was debating the chances success of this mission. _What the hell are we getting into?_

* * *

While Ron had been having his little chat with Reynard, Harry had been thinking some more. Being outside, under the stars and moon, it was hard not to bask in the moonlight. But his mind was occupied at the moment and if it were any other time other than before a dangerous mission that had the odds stacked against it, he probably would have allowed the luxury to just revel in being out in the night.

The oxymoron that was Draco Malfoy needed to be solved. He knew that he would never be able to go on if he didn't. He would never be able to do his best if he had mixed feelings about the person he was trying to save, especially if you weren't sure if you wanted to save him. _Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy... Just who the hell are you?_

Looks could be deceiving, isn't that what they say? But then again there was actions speak louder than words and Malfoy's actions clearly tell of a sadistic, depraved man. Gregon's actions however, spoke of a man who was committed to the public, a man risking personal injury to himself in service to the people. _But Malfoy? Risking his life for another?_ If you had told him that a few days ago he would laughed himself silly and thank the person telling him for the comic relief.

Malfoy was a Slytherin. Any Slytherin is committed to pursuing his own goals, no matter what the costs. They were sly and cunning and would do anything to do to get what they want. But how did saving innocents help him? How did working as a double agent help his goal?

_What is his goal anyway?_ Harry thought, his forehead furrowed. _Is he hoping to convince people that he should be exempt from the atrocities he had committed?_ Actually, that sounded about right and the more correct it sounded. It would be just like Malfoy to play on the sympathies of others.

It made sense. But then there was the matter of Dumbledore. He seemed to believe in the man wholeheartedly and while Malfoy was a conniving bastard, Dumbledore had a heart of gold and a perception that equaled no one. He may trust too easily -- Snape coming to mind -- but the trust he placed in people had never been wrong. If Dumbledore trusted Malfoy, then he had to be sincere. Harry mentally groaned. The feeling that he was missing key parts of the picture nagged at him. _There's got to be something Dumbledore is keeping from me... I just wish he'll just tell me everything. It'll probably help me through this easier..._

Hermione seemed to like Malfoy enough. During his earlier talk with her, he had sensed nothing but good feelings in regard to their old classmate. Hermione also seemed to believed that Malfoy was sincere and was absolutely positive that somehow Dumbledore had become a father figure in Malfoy's life. How he had become that, Harry had no idea. 

For his entire life he had heard of the doting that went on with Malfoy and his parents. They adored him -- gave him everything. Yet, Dumbledore had suggested that Malfoy had been abused by his parents so maybe Malfoy's life wasn't such a paradise… He himself should know it felt to live with abusive parents, even though it pained him to even suggest that the Dursley's were his surrogate parents. But they were in a way. They were the ones to raise him, to clothed and protected him, but the things that should have came freely, Harry had to get it with a heavy price. It was a wonder, being in their influence for so much of his life that he didn't end up just like them. But he supposed it was because of the utter contempt he held for Dursely's and would rather have the Crucio curse cast upon him a hundred times than be ever compared to them. If Dumbledore was the telling the truth -- _wait, Dumbledore doesn't lie... Of course he's telling the truth!_ Draco had been mistreated, just as he was, yet his adored his parents, his Malfoy name. He was ever doing things to impress his father. _Stockholm Syndrome?_ Harry questioned, remembering hearing about it a while back. It had been named for the Muggle who had diagnosed where in which the abuser would abuse the victim for a long period in time so that in time the victim would come to rely on the abuser and do anything to please him or her. God knew how many times Harry had tried to please his aunt and uncle for even the smallest scrap of affection... _Could...could Malfoy be the same way...?_ Harry thought with dread. They were so much alike... Both of them had caregivers who were everything but and both had been mistreated. Both of them had the hate they felt for the Dursely's and the Malfoy's and it could be the one thing that was driving Malfoy do what he was doing. It made sense that he would work with the Light just to spite his father.

Unconsciously, Harry nodded. He now had a reason, the why behind Malfoy's motives and that made him one step closer to understanding the man that was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Ron threw open the door and, like Harry, felt the cold blast of air as it hit him. Sucking his breath, Ron didn't allow a little cold air defer him. He forged on, walking on to the deck. There he spied his friend towards the end of the boat.

It was quiet as he moved over to his friend, the only sound was that of the motor humming slightly and that was only in his mind. There had been a silencing spell placed on the boat, but the spell didn't quite cover the vibrations of the small craft. Of course they had a spell that masked it to the outside world, but on the boat they could still hear it -- or rather feel it -- quite easily.

Harry didn't stir as he moved closer but Ron knew he was not unaware of his presence. It was very rare that Harry would allow his guard down. _Hell it's very rare anybody these days let their guard down._ It was a luxury none could afford.

His friend was clenching the metal rail and briefly Ron wondered if it wasn't cold to the touch. But that didn't matter. It seemed if he wasn't the only one who had a restless spirit.

"Anything in particular you're look at?" Ron asked casually as one might do if they were out for a peaceful stroll.

"Nope."

Well, well... It seemed as if the Boy Who Lived wasn't in the mood to talk. _Too bad..._ Ron thought, not the least bit sorry. He needed to get a few things off his chest and he knew Harry did too.

"Heavy thoughts?

The still figure didn't answer. Instead he turned away from the rail, finally releasing his white fingers from the rail. Leaning against the bar, Harry looked as if the fight had been taken out of him. "I guess you could say that."

"What about?"

"The usual things," Harry replied off-handedly. "Malfoy, the mission, Malfoy some more. What we have to expect from the mission and what we least expect because I would bet that they have that covered. That sort of stuff."

_Am I supposed to believe that?_ Ron wondered. Though the first parts rang true, he doubted that Harry would worry too much about simple risks that were present in every mission. On one level, it could be true. But it wouldn't be as bad as to get Harry so grim. "No, what's really bother you."

Harry gave him the ghost of a smile. "What are you doing here anyway?" he avoided. "I thought you were ready to hurl even at the sight of water." At the glare that Ron sent his way, Harry chuckled softly. He sank down until he was sitting on the wooden deck, but not before checking if it was wet. If it had been wet, he never would have sat down in the first place.

Bending his head, Ron looked down at the sitting figure. Deciding that his neck would most likely cramp if he kept it up, Ron got down to his haunches to sit down beside Harry. 

"God!" Ron yelped. He glared offhandedly at the deck and whipped his head back to glower at Harry. "How the hell can you sit on that...that ice block?!"

Harry shrugged. "It's not so bad with your robe under you and it doesn't bother me that much anyway."

Still perturbed, Ron resigned himself to sitting on the cold wood, barely restraining a grimace as his body met floor. _Harry's wrong... It is so bad even with your robe on._ "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.

Harry was trying to hide a smile at the long suffering look on Ron's face. A simple pleasure, but he'll take them as he got them.

"Why are we torturing ourselves like this?"

"Because you wanted to sit on this bloody floor and I want to keep you company?"

"No," Harry urged. "Why do we keep going on these mission for Dumbledore? Why are we doing this?" And to punctuate his point his waved his arms around, gesturing wildly around him.

Looking straight ahead, Ron thought about the question. "You want to hear why I do what I do or do you want me to give you what you want to hear?"

When Harry didn't answer Ron shrugged. "Don't know. We must be masochists."

A silence fell over them after Ron's weak attempt at humor, the two of them not sure what to say. It was so thick that you could almost cut it with a fork. And when it stretched on and on, Ron knew one had to break first.

"Well," he began. "I can safely say why I'm doing it and I'll say that it's the reason you're out here with me." Ron turned his head to look at Harry because it made him feel less detached from his friend. He didn't want to be saying this like he would just indifferently tell it to a stranger. "My family," Ron softly said. "The people I hold closest to me and my wife, the person who is my life. I fight to keep them safe and alive. So do you." And to emphasize his point, he jabbed Harry on his arm. "You fight for your friends and you fight for your family."

Harry opened his mouth to contradict, but Ron cut him off with a waved of a hand.

"Yes, your family Harry. Can you honestly say you don't care for me like a brother, Hermione a sister?" 

Suddenly Harry found his mouth going dry and he couldn't respond. Instead he just shook his head, not trusting his voice not to crack.

"You also fight for the memory of your parents," Ron continued, his voice steady. "I know you don't want talk it or even like to think about it, but it's true. Your parents gave your life for you and you are in return giving your life to the cause they believed in so completely that they would die for it." And then he shrugged as if it had not been a big deal. "Simple."

_Just like that,_ Harry marveled. It was so clear for Ron. From the way he said it was like it should have been obvious. 

Ron then turned back and breathed in deeply.

"Simple..." Harry mulled over. _Simple._

"Yes simple," Ron affirmed. "It has to be simple or otherwise you'll start doubting yourself."

There was no answer from the body next to him and no indication that Harry had even heard it at all. Ron stiffened. "You...you don't...do you?" Ron asked hesitantly, a deepening horror in his eyes.

When Harry still didn't answer, Ron had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with the water or the boat. _Oh good God..._ He brought a shaking hand to massage his forehead. What Harry was inadvertently admitting to was scaring him, shaking his very foundations of truth. "Hell of a time to develop doubts, Harry," Ron cursed softly.

Harry gave a short, harsh laugh that was without humor. "Don't you think I know that?" he asked harshly. He thrust a hand through his unruly hair. "It's too much Ron... Too damn much. You know as well as I do that I'm the Boy Who Fucking Lived! But I'll bet you that no one, _nobody_, really believes I'm going to be the one to vanquish Voldemort and save us all."

"Bullshit!" Ron cursed fervently. He whirled on him. "Cut the crap Harry! Everyone had always believed in you!" Ron spat vehemently.

He didn't blink. He knew how Ron felt on the subject and he _was_ his best friend so he had to say he believed in him. 

Suddenly Ron's blind conviction, his blind belief in him that he could succeed enraged him and Harry jumped up onto his feet. "God damn it! I'm not a fucking hero! I'm sick of people being I am their _fucking_ savior just because of a god damned fluke that happened so damn long ago! I'm just a regular guy, no better, no worse than any other guy in this world." With that Harry turned away abruptly. After a moment, he squared his shoulders, trying to calm down by taking in several deep breaths.

"What else?"

It had been said so softly that Harry wasn't even sure he had heard it. But then Ron repeated the question and Harry was sure he had heard the whispered words that time. 

They had came out of no where and it caught Harry off guard. Confused, he didn't know how to respond. So he turned around, ready to ask Ron what he was talking about. But before he could say anything Ron asked his question once again.

"What else, Harry?" Ron was also on his feet now, standing before his friend.

His voice was level, almost tentative like Ron wasn't sure if a wrong word wouldn't set him off. 

"What else, what?" Harry asked gruffly.

"What else!" Ron grabbed his friend's shoulders, his fingernails digging deep into flesh. He gave Harry several good, sound shakes. "What else are we to believe in, you bastard!"

He was still shaking Harry and when he saw Harry's eyes rolling back as Harry's head bobbed up and down, he abruptly dropped his hold. Horror swept through him like a wave. "Oh God, Harry. I'm so sorry..."

Harry held up a hand to stop Ron's apologies. "It's okay, Ron." When he saw that Ron was not convinced, he added, "Really." Still Ron didn't look too convinced but at least Ron had stopped apologizing. 

Swallowing hard, Ron took a step away to distance himself from his friend. "I still mean it though. There's very little we can believe in and whether you want it or not, you're the person we look up to. We will fight for you, we will die for you and we understand that you, ultimately _you_ will be the one to save us."

"I'm really not that great, Ron. And it's for that reason I don't want to be known as the Boy Who Will Save Us All. I'm just one guy."

"One guy can make a difference. And besides, you have me to help you. You have Dumbledore and even _Malfoy's_ on your side." Ron's mouth curl in distaste as he spoke Malfoy's name. "No one expects you to do it on your own. But like it or not, you're a big part of this. And it's not as if we have a lot of people to believe in. We have you, the person who's the very reason why we've lasted this long. If you had died 26 years ago we would have lost the fight a long time ago. I probably wouldn't even be _alive_ if it weren't for you."

"Don't say that!" Harry cried out.

"It's true," Ron stressed. "No one has ever survived an encounter with You-Know-Who and then this baby comes along and defeats him. Do you know how extraordinary that is?"

The wonder in Ron's voice moved him and for a while he could actually see himself believing his words.

"Like I said before, Harry. We don't have many people to believe in. We have Dumbledore, we have the Grey Dragon and...we have you."

* * *

The screaming had began once again, the very yells sending shivers on her spine. She heard them as they echoed off the walls and vibrated throughout the halls of the manor. Even being outside, she could hear them all the way out there, the sounds being carried by the wind, making them sound like twisted cries from the dark.

Briefly she wondered how long Draco could last under the pressure. Last night he had lasted longer than the night before and the night before that, each new night gaining more and more time before he lapsed away into unconsciousness. But then again he had lasted longer and longer _not_ giving any reaction. Even at the age of twelve, Draco knew the consequences of showing any sort of weakness.

The tall woman shivered, her usually expressionless face barely concealing her anguish as she heard the distorted cries of the man she called friend. Whatever they seemed to be casting on him was definitely bad for it make him howl in such agony.

She had been afraid that they would cast the Heaven on Earth spell on him and had hoped because it had been newly developed that it wouldn't be put to use. But unfortunately it was. She doubted any other type of torture would break Draco, but if one were to, this one would be the one. It was a bit ironic -- it had been developed by Draco himself only a few weeks back. _The person to devise the spell is now the recipient of it..._

Wandering the dark wood, she was careful not to step on anything or come into contact with any plant. They had the island fortified with a number of deadly plants and animals so it would do her no good to fall prey to one of them on an 'innocent' night stroll.

They had spells to repel them, potions to render them harmless and countless little magical things to keep them safe, but safe was only relative and no one is truly safe. It was ridiculous for them to run around getting themselves inoculated and bend themselves back and forward for this and that every time they had a new thing on the island.

Of course it was understandable that they had to protect the island from intruders but sometimes, she thought, it just wasn't worth the work. On a monthly basis they would lose at least one or two people to the very things that were place on the island to protect it.

The moon was in the middle of the night sky, its light more than enough to light the path. She was circling the island, still debating whether or not to help Potter and Weasley when the time came. It was very tempting not to. To turn up at the landing site with a dozen Death Eaters waiting for the two of them -- to be the one who will be remembered that killed Harry Potter. Weasley would be a nice price as well -- the two of them had earned the reputation of being unbeatable. To kill them both would strike a blow within the Wizarding World that they can do anything and they _can't_ do anything to stop it. This could be the thing that could not be rivaled by any of the petty attacks they were doing now.

But... and there's always a but. But, she knew she couldn't do it. She was too devoted to Draco and to Draco's resistance within the Death Eaters to do that to the people they were supposed to be helping.

_Maybe I should just not show up at all..._ she contemplated. Immediately she squashed that idea. Potter and Weasley wouldn't be able to take two steps without getting tangled or attacked by something nasty. _Hell most of the people here still need guides!_ It was why no one was allowed out on the island without being in pairs. Unless, you were one of the few on the island that knew it from the ground up and would never, even drunk and high, would ever fall into one of their own traps.

_Besides,_ she thought. _A bumbling Potter and Weasel messing up everything we've worked for is something I don't need right now._

"Psst!"

She froze, the tiny noise rooting her to her spot. She discreetly scanned the area around her, but she couldn't see anything out of place. _Of course that doesn't mean there's no one out there anyway._ "Who's there?" she asked, her voice guarded.

No one answered and all she could hear were soft footsteps that were descending upon her, closer and closer. She forced herself to be still when the footsteps finally stopped right behind her. She could feel the warm breath tickling the back of her neck, making the small hairs stand on their ends.

"It's only me," the whispered voice then came from right next to her, directly into her ear. 

She turned, a look of surprise and shock on her face. "Vin?"

"Yeah."

She was about ready to reach out into the general area where the voice was coming from to try and get a sense of where he was when a sharp shout halted her.

"No!" 

The hissed voice immediately stopped her arm and it fell awkwardly to her side. 

"Just keep on walking," Vin directed.

She obeyed him, acting if nothing had happened, her steps steady and sure. "Invisibility cloak?"

"Yes."

She nodded slightly, acknowledging his answer. She had thought as much. It was one of the few things that they are not able to detect if used on the island.

"Why are you here Vin?"

"What are your plans for Potter and Weasley?" Vin shot right back.

"Haven't decided," she lied effortlessly. _Well it's not as if I have much of a choice._

"What?!" he screeched, but it was an odd sort of screech for Vin was trying to be quiet and express his shock at the same time. "Why the hell haven't you?" he demanded angrily.

She shrugged. She didn't what to say to him that was believable. She had decided what she was going to do, but she couldn't let him know _that_. It was they who had ordered her to work with the two of them in the first place. She wasn't about to let them know she was going to do it their way without a fight.

"It's not our way Vinny, you know that. He's one of us, we should be the ones doing this," she implored, using the excuses she had used before.

"Yes, but Draco wanted it this way. You remember what he said before he was captured. He's stressed this again and again -- Let Dumbledore do what he wants done and give him any help needed. He knew he wouldn't be able to be anonymous forever. They can get him out to safety and most of all it's what he wants. That's what's important. He's relying on us to do his job once he's gone. He can't have one of us falling prey to the Death Eaters," Vin paused for a moment and she could hear a shuffle of material. She smiled. _Vin's nervous_, she sang in her head. It had been a habit that Vin had developed, a sure sign of his anxiety. 

He spoke again, this time the tone of his voice was more commanding. "You've always trust Draco above all else. Trust him enough now to DO AS HE ASKS," he stressed, his voice hard.

She pursed her lips, offended. _Who the hell is he to question my allegiance to Draco?!_ She shook her head in compliance. _I don't have time for this._ "Alright already. I'll do it," she sneered.

If it had seemed to Vin that she had given up too easily, he said nothing about it save for a final grunt of approval before moving off, leaving her to stand in the middle of the path alone.

She snorted and fumed at his sudden leave. _He didn't even have the decency to say good-bye!_ she indignantly cried in her head.

Composing herself, she smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles out of her robe and she started walking again nonchalantly toward the coast where two outsiders were supposed to land.

_Let's just get this over with,_ she grumbled.

* * *

"Boys!"

Ron and Harry's head turned when they heard the cry from inside the boat. There was Reynard leaning outside, half in and half out with one hand on the door frame. "We're at the border between the protected waters and open ocean. I assume you two have the spells to get us through undetected?" He looked down at them pointedly, almost expecting them to answer negatively.

The two young men fumed under his gaze until Ron finally said something. "Yes," he spat contemptly. 

"We'll take care of it," Harry added pleasantly, sending Ron a diapproving look. 

Harry thought he had heard a low grumble coming from Reynard before he moved back in to do things on his end, but he could have been mistaken. 

When Reynard was finally out of the way, Ron turned to Harry and rolled his eyes. "I really don't like that guy," he groused, pulling his wand out.

"He just wants us to succeed and besides, Dumbledore trusts him." Harry too pulled his wand out.

The boat sped up for a few moments and soon the two of them heard Reynard yell that had arrived over the point. "Now!"

The two spells they were using were new to them and they had practiced most the day in mastering them. It wasn't enough time, but in their line of work it was often nescessary to learn spells at the spur of the moment with little or no practice. It was a dangerous thing to do to cast a spell that they were not familiar with because of the hundred and one ways to do something wrong. Even the smallest mispronunciation could mean the difference between the spell suceeding or failing and in their case failing was not an option.

One spell, the Breach spell was just as the name suggested. It was to breach the barrier, to make sure they moved through it without harm. Usually it would repel unsuspecting boats away from the waters of Malos Island -- either that or capsize the vessel. It was the easier of the two spells so Ron had volunteered to do it. Not because he was less competent to do the other spell, but because Harry had a natural knack for casting spells and it would have increased their chances to accomplish their goal.

The other spell had to be cast at exactly the moment they passed through the border. The Stealte spell was the spell to conceal the small boat once they got into enemy waters. If it was cast before or after they passed the border, they were screwed. The hard part of the spell was judging at what moment the right time was. There was no way to know exactly, more like an intuition type of thing. It was judging the right time by the feel of the air. The air being so frigidly cold was a mark on their part.

With everything he had, Harry focused on getting his part of this done. In the back of his mind he heard Ron yell his spell, but he was more focused on trying to distinguish the 'right' time for his spell to be cast. 

He raised his wand in expectancy, still waiting for that small moment that could mean their life or death. There! He felt it! It was a slight pull and Harry knew that he had to cast the spell now, before he felt pressure on his body or else he would be too late.

Without wasting any time, Harry gave his wand an impressive sweep. "Ebateis Stealte!" he cried out. Almost immediately later he felt the pressure on his body. They were so close that Harry didn't know if he had been quick enough or not and when nothing happened for a moment he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing for sure he had failed everyone.

It was just as Harry was about to crumble when Reynard popped his head out again. "Good job! You've done it but be on the alert." Harry barely heard Reynard over the roaring noise in his ears and missed the look Reynard gave Ron before he retreated back in.

Harry sighed in relief, the only thing on his mind was that he was okay, Ron was okay and they were back on schedule. _There's nothing wrong,_ he told himself, trying to reassure himself that everything was okay. 

It was like the energy suddenly decided to leave him and he leaned against the boat rail in relief. "Well," he started weakly. "That wasn't fun."

Ron clasped a firm hand on Harry's arm. "Come on, Harry. We knew you wouldn't fail us." Ron gave him a small smile, he too trying to reassure his friend.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. It was amazing at the confidence Ron believed him and it was surprising that he could still feel so strongly about a particular mission. But Harry knew that if he didn't feel as if he wasn't going to succeed with every mission, he wouldn't have worked as hard as he had without the threat of failing. "Thanks, Ron," Harry thanked gratefully. _It was nice having friends who believed in you,_ Harry mused as they lapsed into silence, the two of them content at enjoying what little amount of peace they had.

* * *

After a few minutes, Ron suddenly started.

"Did you hear that?" Ron asked curiously.

"Hear what?" 

There was a splash of water and then another. 

"There! And again! You hear it?"

"You'll have to be deaf not to Ron," Harry answered dryly. "It's just water, nothing to worry about."

"No," Ron insisted. "Not just water. Well, yes water but not water hitting the boat. More like something rising..." he trailed off, his head slowly rising, his staring at something just above Harry's head. "Oh shit," he cursed.

"What?"

Ron lifted a shaking arm to point at the thing above Harry's head. "I...I think...I think it's a..."

"What?" Harry questioned, annoyed and turned around. After he saw nothing, only a large shape to the front of him. Then he looked up. And then he saw what it was that had Ron so spooked. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. His mouth suddenly dried up and he could only echo Ron's statement. "Shit!"

* * *

New A/N: You might have realized that this has an extra part in it. It as a mistake on my part when I forgot about it... It hit me an hour after I had turned the ocmputer off that I had forgotten to put that scene in and I hope that it wasn't that much of a problem for all of you.

Old A/N: Oh boy... I'm not really sure what to say. I tried to mess with my little nicely neat universe and this is what happened. I was talking to my friend Kara (HI KARA! =) and she pointed out that I couldn't make this as easy as I've made it so this is the result. I want to thank Kara for all her help, even though she hates slash and doesn't understand my love of placing Draco and Harry together.

Oh I have an announcement to make! My beta reader has come up with a cover to Gregon! It's up here: http://www.angelfire.com/or2/sherryillk/hp/cover.html   
Please tell her what you think of it! It's great, no?

I think I should have said that this was going to be an eventual slash story. I mean Harry and Draco haven't even seen each other in like 9 years and Draco's out of his mind right now.

Zipporah: Glad you like it! That's exactly what I was going for. Same characters, but different because different things have happened to them. I might explain somewhat why they have changed but it'll most likely be in a different story.

I know what you mean about thinking a lot about each other. It's what I do, I suppose. I'm a thinker and I know people think, and I believe in knowing how someone thinks, you understand them a lot more. That's what I'm trying to do. I did try to get more talking in this chapter. Verbal interaction is _not_ one of my fortes... I'll try to get more talking later on.

WildfireFriendship: Yes very much so. *veg* No... It's just that I have a lot to say. Next chapter will have something exciting though.

I've been thinking about this fanfic a lot lately and I'm starting to think I should summarize it as "an exploration of mind to further understand what drives the characters of Harry Potter", but it doesn't sound that good so I'm not going to change it.

A GREAT MANY THANKS TO MY BETA READER **RED DRAGONS ORDER**. You are such a dear and thank you and sorry again.

That's about it then. Remember, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! I live for your comments, good and bad! :) Until next time.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

  


Harry gaped at the large creature as it rose higher and higher, the water cascading down its long, lithe body. The splashes were deafening to his ears and felt his head look up with the beast as it rose.

Large was the first thing to come to Harry's mind and from Ron's wide eyes, it seemed he agreed too.

The thing was indeed large or at least tall anyway. The only part of it that was peeking out of the water was its head and neck, but that was long enough. It seemed as if its neck went on forever as Harry followed it up until he finally saw the head. It was round, much like a snake or serpent with a forked tongue slipping in and out of its mouth. When it finally stopped rising, he assumed that that was all there was to see of the creature, but that was enough to stagger him.

At least two stories tall and it's body from the neck on was as wide as three cars, it was not was not he would call "small" at any means, but it wasn't as big as he had first thought it was. He had peeked over the rail and had seen that almost a third of it's length was its tail. 

No matter how small or not as big he thought it was irrelevant. That thing still had that capacity to kill them just as easily. Harry was sure that though he was small, his small size was definitely a plus in his side. 

_Shit_, he repeated in his head as he cautiously stepped back. Ron thankfully was doing the same and he hoped the thing that seemed to be moving with the boat didn't notice too much. It's hard to predict what a creature would do, especially as he didn't know what type of creature it was.

It was times like this that he wished he still had Hermione with him during these missions. A pang of sadness tugged at his heart as he remembered how it used to be with the two of them together. _I hate growing up._

There was no way he or Ron could attack it without serious consequences. They wouldn't stand a chance in a physical battle with it; its tail could wipe them out in ten seconds flat. No, he would have to think beyond what he was used to in order to battle this sea creature. 

"Harry!"

Harry looked up and slowed his steady movements backward. "Ron?"

"I don't know what it is, but I'm sure Reynard knows."

_Reynard?_ His forehead furrowed, he pondered the man. Of course Reynard should know... And.... _And he hasn't stopped the boat!_ Harry could see the question in Ron's eyes and reluctantly gave him a tight nod of confirmation. 

Harry stepped up, raising his hands and waved them to attract the creature's attention to draw them from Ron slipping indoors. "Hey you!"

The slick green animal lowered, its body submerging in the water until the head that was perhaps only four times the size of a normal human head was at eye level with Harry.

He could see that he had the thing's attention. Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Ron still trying to slip through the door quietly and inconspicuously. His heart racing, he forced himself to stare the creature in his eye and calmly yelled, "Yes you! Do you see any other big sea serpent out there!"

A forked tongue peaked out of the creature's mouth and Harry continued to try and call the thing's attention, jumping up and down, waving his arms around, anything to draw the attention away from Ron.

When Ron finally made it safely inside, Harry felt a slight relief. Even if he was killed here by the foolishness of his actions, at least Ron would be able to consult with Reynard and kill that thing and get on with the mission.

"Who are you?" Three words, hissed from the serpent's mouth.

Shocked, Harry's head popped up to stare at it. He hadn't expected it to speak. He swallowed once and tried to deal with this new crinkle like the way he did with anything these days. Pushing his emotions aside, Harry spoke calmly, but loud enough for his voice to be carried through the still air. "Who are you?"

He wasn't sure, but he had thought he had seen a sparkle of amusement in the sea serpent's dark green eyes. "I believe I asssked you firssst. Now--" It raised high just a bit, but enough to look ominous. "Who are you and why are you here in forbidden watersss," she (Harry assumed it was she, but it could have been a male just as easily) demanded and any sort of amusement Harry thought he had seen was gone from the serpent's eyes.

Covertly, Harry glanced around the boat for something, anything that he could use as a weapon. There was nothing he could do with his wand, not until he was sure he had a spell or charm that would work on the animal and since he didn't know what the thing was, it was a bit hard to do even that. 

Off to the side on the deck floor was a coil of thick rope and two harpoons; the other side were several nets and an old fishing pole. He noted them with a fleeting glance, storing them for later if the need should ever arise that he would need it. Unconsciously he shifted on his legs, feeling the sheathed knife strapped to a leg. It was small, but sharp. He didn't know what effect it would have on the creature, but at least he knew he could do some damage with it.

"Would you believe we're out on a casual stroll and just...happened here?" Harry shouted nonchalantly. He was surprised at how calm he was being, especially with his heart as racing as fast as it was.

If it was possible, the creature flashed him a toothy grin, the sight of the pointy teeth making Harry want to shudder. _This is daft! I can't just be calling her the creature...the best...the thing... She must have some sort of race._

"I ssshould think not. You reek of magic."

Harry licked his lips and glanced at the closed door. _Nope, still closed... How long does it take Ron to ask Reynard a simple question?_

Stalling, Harry moved closer to the harpoons, disguising his movements as a desire to move closer to the creature. "What are you anyway?"

"You don't know, my dear friend? Let me ssshow you sssomething..."

With that a white mist shimmed around the creature in eerie brilliance, surrounding her and covering her fully. Harry stared at the effulgent sight, his eyes in rapture as he took in the change as the serpent changed. He dared not look away as he watched it rise up above the surface, all the while shrinking. Slowly slender legs emerged, stretching longer and longer as the tail dwindled in size until finally all that was left was a stump of green and even that eventually retracted into the body. In it's place grew a long slender tail, looking more delicate and much more refined than the monstrous tail that once been the creature's. Bits of unblemished white fur started to tuft out covering every part of the body.

It should have been a ghastly sight, but...it wasn't. It was... _Beautiful_, Harry breathed. The green eyes stayed the same; the only constant throughout the transformation. They stayed glued to Harry's eyes and Harry barely noticed when the change was done and all that was left was a sleek white horse.

_"Do you see now Harry? This is what I am..."_ The velvety voice invaded his mind until the only thing he could concentrate on was the voice and those green eyes of the creature's.

Harry could only nod, rendered speechless by the transition from ugly snake to magnificent dame. His wand fell from his listless fingers onto the deck, but Harry spared it no glance.

_"Would you like to ride me Harry?"_

Harry. It said his name again and for the life of him, he couldn't remember when he had mentioned it to her. But he didn't care. All he cared about was the alluring animal in front of him, beckoning him with soft neighs. Harry nodded spellbound. There was nothing he wanted to do more at the moment. Everything else was taking second seat as he forgot his training and the mission he should of been focusing on. The only thing that was on his mind was the horse.

_"Come here Harry... You can ride me if you want to -- I want you to... Come Harry... Come..."_

His eyes were still fixed with the animal's as Harry took a sure step towards it. One after another, step after step taking him closer and closer. The horse smiled and neighed once again, inclining her head as she drifted over the side of the boat.

_"See...it's easy. Just climbing over the rail and onto me... I won't let you fall. I promise."_

Harry nodded in agreement. He trusted the horse. Of course she wouldn't let harm to come to him! How could something so majestic do anything that was disastrous? _Only a few more steps_, Harry thought as he judged the distance from the place he was to where he could mount the horse. He could almost feel the beast under him now...

__

"Yesss, Harry. Come to me... Come to me..."

_I'm coming. Just wait... I'm coming to you..._ Harry walked a little faster, trying to get closer to the horse quicker. He could hear the urgency in the horse's voice... _It_ need him to come faster. 

Suddenly Harry looked up in shock as his foot encountered something on the floor. "What?" Looking away from the horse to look down at what it was he had walked into, Harry could feel the daze that had been enveloping him slip slowly away. Down on the deck floor were the two metal harpoons he had seen earlier.

He could still here the voice of the horse in his mind, but it no longer enchanted him like before. It was as though the mist was finally lifting and he was finally seeing what was in front of him all this time. No longer did the beast's voice sound as sweet but now, without the taint of spell she was weaving over him, he could hear the underlying venom.

_"Nooo! Look at me Harry? Don't you ssseee? Don't you want to ride meee?"_

Harry looked up, avoiding any deep contact with the horse's eyes. With one long swoop, he grabbed one of the long harpoon. "Nope," Harry answered and he peeled his arm back and allowed the harpoon to fly from his arm.

It hit the horse smack dab in the middle, drawing a long and piercing shriek from it. Harry forced himself not to cringe from the yell. Almost immediately it lost the form of the glistening white horse and reverted back to the serpent. 

As it grew back into it's normal size, Harry could see that the spear wasn't doing as much damage as he wished it would. He took several staggering steps back, but not before grabbing the other harpoon, clutching it in his right arm like a lifeline. Harry searched madly for a point of weakness -- anything, anywhere he could hurl the harpoon and do the most damage.

The snake screamed again, her long neck bending so her mouth could reach the wound.

There! Harry suddenly had a bright idea. _Come on Harry. You can do this..._ Smiling grimly, he lifted the harpoon into his hand, balancing it carefully. He took several steps back and pulled his arm back. _Now Harry!_ he ordered himself. _Now when she is distracted!_ Harry took a leap forward and heaved the heavy weapon into the air. _Yes Harry! That's it!_ Harry watched as it hit its target, jerking the serpent's head up again as the air filled with a blood chilling scream. _Yes! You got it Harry!_ It sounded as if the dead themselves were mad at him and Harry fought the urge to wince and look away. But he forced himself to look at his handiwork. Two points where Harry pierced him, the first minuscule dot deep in the serpent's belly, insignificant. It didn't even look as if it had hurt the thing much with only a small stream of red blood running from it.

But the other one... That one was different. Looking at the shrunken, ghastly mess that once was the left eye of the snake's eye, Harry couldn't help be feel a little proud of it. The eye ball had ruptured, almost like a water balloon that had burst under the pressure of too much water. Blood and something else that Harry was reluctant to identify was oozing from the punctured eye. 

_Uh oh!_ Harry's eyes widened as he saw the enraged fury in the sea serpent's good eye. _Shit!_ Harry searched around the deck, searching for anything he could use on the beast, anything to keep it at bay for a while longer.

His eyes moved from the fishing pole to the curl up rope to the weighted nets. _I can't use that! No! That's won't work! That maybe... if I can get up there..._ Something within him told him that physical weapons would be best. Briefly he entertained the thought of taking his knife out and using it, but considering that the _harpoon_ that had penetrated the snake's skin and didn't so much as annoy her, he didn't think it would work. _And I doubt I have that good of an aim to hit her other eye..even with a guidance spell._

He moved backwards, trying to get some distance from he and the monster. _Monster. Yes that fits._ In his retreat he accidentally kicked something back, sending it rolling. Harry whirled around and his hopes immediately rose at the sight of his wand. Never had felt such elation at the sight of his _wand_, but tonight he was damn glad to see it.

"Wingardium leviosa!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the heap of nets. As fast as he could he maneuvered the nets over the serpent's head, let it drop when it was directly over it.

The serpent lurched forward, incensed that this mere human was overtaking her. Her anger coming off of her in waves. rolling and hitting him in the face.

Frantically Harry searched in his mind for the right spell but with each sweep he came up empty. _Shit, shit, shit!_ He strained to remember the little spell, but he just couldn't think of it. 

Carelessly he tossed out a spell just to keep the beast away. "Pelarse!" It had no effect on her, not moving her an inch from her present position. 

She was straining to keep her head up -- the weighted nets forcing her down into the water, but it wasn't enough. Harry needed a spell to keep her under. The problem with that was that he still _couldn't_ think of one.

_Ugh! You stupid idiot!_ he chastised himself. _Don't you understand that this could mean the end of you and any chance of this mission succeeding?! Do you realize how many people are counting on you?!_ He continued the verbal abuse, his frustration and anger getting the best of him

Then Harry looked up, momentarily pausing. All Harry could see were her sharp teeth, coming at him at an alarming speed, and Harry did something he hadn't done in years. _He froze._ He stood there, his mouth agape while he watched as the head of his attacker coming him.

Just as he being to think that this might as well be his very last moment on Earth and was determined to take it standing straight, the door to the bridge of the boat banged open, and a harried Ronald Weasley stalking out, his wand in his hand and determination set on his face.

"Ferridium portius!" Ron yelled, a blast from his wand repelling the serpent away. He glanced over to Harry, a cheeky grin on his face. "Sorry I took so long, Harry." He turned away again, stalking away towards the rail. Pointing his wand once again at the serpent. With his face set, devoid of all remorse, Ron spoke the last spell to end the creature's existence. "Mergious!"

Harry had gotten by then and was shaken from his shock. He dimly heard his friend cast the spell, but he knew that he did. Leaning onto the rail, Harry watched as the spell forced the serpent down into the water, lower and lower until either the pressure or the lack of air did her in. _Stupid, stupid, stupid..._ he cursed himself.

And as Harry watched the death of the creature that had tried to captivated him, he couldn't for the life of him bring up any feelings of regret or loss. _She got what was coming to her,_he growled with such passion that surprised even he.

When the last bubbles drifted off to the top of the water and burst, Harry turned away and clasped a hand on Ron's arm. "Thanks." He tried to put everything he was feeling into that one word. "For being ther for me...back there..." _If it wasn't for Ron arriving at the nick of time I would be dead now... WE would be dead._ A hard expression fell on his face, the beginning signs of guilt starting to appear.

"You mean saving your arse?" Ron grinned. "I can't believe it! I, Ron Weasley, the often overlooked partner of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter himself saved his arse!" 

Harry glared, his guilt forgotten as he was distracted by Ron's jibe. "You're not overlooked."

Ron snorted. "Right! And the Dumbledore isn't always right." Ron grin told Harry that he was just kidding. 

"I mean it, Ron. Thank you. I would have been killed back there if it hadn't been for you."

"I know and you're welcome. That's what partners do; they cover your back when you're scared shitless."

"I wasn't scared!"

Ron gave him a pointed look that made Harry stutter a bit. 

"Okay, okay... I admit it! I was a bit...apprehensive," Harry admitted, albeit reluctantly. It was nice seeing that Ron didn't blame him for being such a sorry excuse for a partner. He could have gotten them all killed and Ron just waved it off, joking and playing with him as though nothing had happened.

Slapping Harry on the back, Ron pulled him towards the general direction towards the door to indoors. "You should have seen your face!" Ron crowed, laughing deeply.

Harry reddened and pushed Ron's arm away. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." He wasn't too proud of his reaction back there and he knew Ron wasn't trying to be malicious. He was just trying to relieve some of the tension that he thought Harry had from an almost death experience. But what Ron didn't know that having an almost death experience every year while at Hogwarts and having several a year after his graduation, facing death was something he came into contact often. Of course it bothers him during the experience (you can't never make yourself forget the fact that You Are Going To Die At That Moment), but dealing with it afterwards was pretty much a breeze. _But only those that are somewhat emotionally detached..._ Harry added in his head as an after thought. There were some that were...a lot harder to get over. _Especially those that involved the life of your friends,_ he added. His own near-death experiences he could handle, but putting his friends life on the line... That was just something he couldn't do.

Deciding to put that aside for now, Harry tried a different sort of pace. "What took you so long anyway? It shouldn't have taken that long just to question Reynard on the beast."

Ron shrugged, his eyes looking away for a moment. "Ah, well..."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"Reynard was...a little difficult."

Harry's eyes narrowed even more. "What happened?" he asked resigned. He knew how hotheaded his partner got when things don't go his way. And something told him that Reynard was no better.

"Let's just say we had a little disagreement and leave at that. And besides, I did come in the nick of time and we're relatively unharmed."

"Relatively." 

Ron laughed. "Basically I should have said. Look at you, Harry! You've been in this business to long my friend." He shook his head in wonder. "Didn't even break into a sweat."

Harry rolled his eyes. _If only Ron knew..._ "Neither did you, Ron," Harry pointed out, grabbing the door and holding it open for his friend.

The two of them stepped in, each doing a small survey of the room. It was unchanged as when they last left, Reynard still guiding the small boat closer and closer to the island. 

Harry stalked over to the other man, his face set and determined. "Just what the hell was that thing?" he demanded without preamble.

Reynard gave him a smileless look over. "Did Weasley tell you?"

Harry glanced at Ron who was looking right back. "Hey! You never asked! And I didn't have time to. Not with saving your arse and all."

"You're not going to let up on that are you?" Harry returned his gaze to Reynard. "So what was it?"

"Kelpie," Reynard answered. "Nasty little thing, wasn't she?" 

Harry silently agreed with him. "Why the hell didn't you warn us of that thing in the first place? I was under the impression that getting to the island was going to be relatively easy."

Ron who had been slowly moving to the sofa in the back froze. Hesitantly he turned back. "Um...well, he did."

Swiveling on the balls of his feet, Harry spun around. "What?"

Ron shuffled on his feet nervously. "He did warn us, well actually me and I meant to tell you, but..."

"But..." Harry prompted.

"But we didn't really have time to get there," Ron finished. "We started talking about Malfoy and then about you--"

"It's okay Ron," Harry interrupted. He didn't want Reynard to know he was doubting himself. "I know what you mean. It's okay." He moved slightly towards Reynard. "So tell me about this...kelpie."

"It's a magical animal as you may have guessed. A water demon that lures victims into the water and then devours them. They're dangerous simply because they ooze this essence that most people can't withstand them." Reynard looked at Harry with a new light. "You're a lot more than what you seem."

"Thanks, I think." _Somehow that compliment seemed like an insult._

"From what Reynard here tells me," Ron spoke up, nodding towards the old man. "The kelpie is usually found in the form of a horse, but it has several other forms as well."

"Like the snake."

"Sea serpent," Reynard corrected. "A snake is just a general term."

_So what?_ Harry rolled his eyes. "Is there any other things we can expect to hinder us tonight?"

Reynard shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. If we're lucky, probably not. If we're not, who knows?"

He turned back to his work and Harry found himself once again cut off. _I wish he would quit doing that!_ It was annoying how that man always got the last say in things every single time by relieving himself from the conversation. It was damn abrupt and left him feeling as if he was hanging, suspended with no place to go.

Annoyed, Harry turned to Ron who was settling himself on the right side of the sofa. 

"Hey Reynard how long until we get there?" Ron asked cheekily.

Reynard emitted a growl -- or at least what seemed to be a growl and answered brusquely that they would get in five minutes.

"That's not very long," commented Ron.

"No, it's not," Harry answered in turned, fidgeting in his seat next to Ron.

"You nervous?"

"No!" Harry answered a little too quickly for Ron to believe him. "Why would you say that?" _Does he know?_

"I dunno." Ron shrugged. "It just seems you're a little wired."

"Wired?" Harry squeak, trying to get his voice to obey him. _Get the hold of yourself man!_ he ordered himself. He scolded himself for being silly. He didn't even _know_ what was wrong with him and he was acting if was trying to hide it.

"Wired," Ron affirmed, waving an lazy hand towards his friend. "Just that usually you're calm and collected before a mission."

Harry shrugged helplessly. "This isn't an ordinary mission," he pointed out, his heart racing for no reason. He had to calm down. No more dinners right before missions... They raise his blood suger too high.

"No," Ron agreed. "But it's still a mission, just like all the others we've taken part in in the last couple of years."

Harry snorted. There was nothing about this mission that's _just like_ all the others. _No this one feels different._ No mission has ever made him feel this way before. The thrill of anticipations, the jittery nerves, especially not stab of fear he felt every few seconds. It was just...odd. He couldn't pinpoint just what it was this mission that was different from all the other countless ones he had participated in. "It's probably just Malfoy and seeing him again. It'll be hard not to..." Harry searched for the right word. "Not to try and dismember him while we are supposedly trying to protect and save him."

"You could say that again." Ron shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever be able to wrap my head around the fact that the Gregon is Malfoy. They're nothing alike."

_Are they?_ Harry wondered. He always thought it was quaint that Ron would speak of the Grey Dragon as if he was a personal acquaintance and even more so now.

"How are we supposed to this again?" Ron's voice broke into Harry's reverie, startling him to the present. 

"Er... We'll it's--" Harry broke off and looked at his watch. "Nine eighteen now and we should get there about nine twenty... We should have enough time to meet up with 'Draco's associate' whomever it is and get out of the way before the next couple of guards make their way towards the landing site. We'll be wearing the Invisibility cloaks Dumbledore had sent with Reynard so we'll have to stay together so we won't get lost."

"And the grounds?"

"The grounds may be a bit tricky. Once we set foot on the island--"

"No magic, I know Harry," Ron interrupted. "But what of the fauna? I don't remember Malfoy writing anything down about it on his maps about plant or animal life."

Harry shook his head. "I don't know either," he admitted. "But I've heard the rumors..."

"I've heard the rumors too!" Ron burst. "And if that's how the island is, I think I would rather not know about it."

He understood Ron's agitation. If they were going on the island based on the rumors that have leaked out, he wouldn't want to know about it either. It would better to go in blind than to spend every moment wondering if he was triggering something or alerting something else. But he knew that they needed to be prepared. From what they've heard, Malos Island was verifiable stronghold chalk full of nasty animals and even nastier plants. Harry suppressed a shudder as he thought about the things that would be waiting for him on the island. He remembered, back when they were still in Hogwarts, when they still had been time to dally, when they spent an entire night telling scary stories. Harry shuddered as he remembered some of the horror stories Seamus told about the island.

"Do...do you think it's true? I mean...about the plants?" Ron asked tentatively, breaking the silence that had enveloped them. The two of them had lost themselves in the terror and apprehension for a few moments.

"Aye it's true."

The two men jumped at the intrusion, both their hearts racing as Reynard suddenly popped in front of them.

Harry shot a glance over to the front of the boat. "Shouldn't you be steering?"

"We're here. But before you go understand this; the island of Malos is not what it seems. Beware the what you see for what you see may not be what it is. Heed my warnings boys and remember: trust not what you see but always trust when you feel." He tilted his head, his voice ringing true in Harry's ears. "It may save your life and is the key to survival on the island."

The ominous declaration struck a cord within the two of them and for a moment after Reynard moved away, they sat still, digesting his words.

Harry wanted to dismiss the warning, wanted to write it off as nonsense -- how else could he deal with it? But with many years of experience, he knew not to take anything lightly anymore.

Slowly the two of them started to stir. They rose from their seats silently, moving towards the door to disembark the small vessel. As they reached the door, Reynard stopped them once again. 

"I'll be leaving for a while but I'll be back at exactly half past ten. Be sure you be here by then. If you should run into complication, I will be back every hour on the hour until dawn. Once day breaks, it will be too much of a risk for me to come so close to shore. I will be back a hour after dusk and every hour on the hour after that."

Harry and Ron nodded as they stored the information away for later. When they were sure that he was not going to apart with any more information, they made their way to the door. Ron snagged the bag of things Dumbledore had thought they need and had sent ahead of them with one hand. The two of them walked out and across the deck. Once outside, both Ron and Harry both did a quick survey of their surroundings. 

The night sky was a lit by the moon but the island itself was darkened for the most part. Shadowed buildings and dark woods took up most of the island, but Harry thought he had saw the glint of a small lake in the distance.

The beach span maybe a kilometer, maybe two, outlined by rugged rocks in the background. They didn't expand that far up and didn't seem to be much of a challenge to get across. _Shouldn't take more than a minute or two,_ Harry judged, looking it over.

A slow and short mist rose from the waters that surround the island, giving an eerie feeling as mist met skin. In the waters were dark green plants, presumably seaweed littered around, gently moving with the tide.

Harry's eyes were brought back to island itself, trying to search out the guide that they were supposed to depended upon for the duration of their little trip to the island. His eyes roamed the island, but he couldn't see anybody that was waiting for them...

"Harry!" Ron whispered. "Could that be...?" Ron pointed a point at the rocks.

Harry squinted, not seeing a thing. Then looking even harder, he could just barely make out a huddled figure shadowed by the rocks and protected from the light. If he could trust his eyes, whomever it was seemed to be staring at them.

"See any deadly plants?" Harry joked, trying to alleviated some of the tension in the air.

"Not funny Harry." Ron gave him a no nonsense look.

Harry shrugged. _It was worth a try._ "Do you want to get off first? I mean with your stomach and all?"

"Sure," Ron answered lightly. "I might as well." He threw the bag he was holding at Harry. Catching it with a humph, Harry glared at Ron who had turned away to place the small ladder into place. 

Ron looked down at the water with distaste. Getting wet was something he didn't want to do, but he knew it was inevitable when getting onto an island. The seaweed was everywhere Ron could see. _Ugh! First I have to get wet, now I have to be surrounded by seaweed?_ He looked away and gave one last look at the island and saw that the figure who had been against the rocks had moved forward. He or she was a few paces from unfiltered light but still the person remained shrouded in darkness.

_This is it..._ he thought as he slowly descended. As he concentrated on getting down the ladder quickly and securely, he almost didn't hear the shout behind him. _What?_ The voice pierced through his consciousness and disrupted his thoughts. That small break in concentration was enough to disrupt him. He turned his head a little to quickly to glance at what the person was yelling at just as he was about to take another step down. Unfortunately the ladder was a little wet.

With a cry Ron went failing, his arms floundering around as he tried fruitlessly to regain his balance. In the back of his mind he could hear Harry crying out his name, but he was paying it no mind. He didn't think about the fact that he was just about to land in icy cold water. The only thing in his mind was the face of the woman who was supposed to meet them. _No! It can't be!_ It was the last person he and probably Harry would expect to help them.

* * *

_Damn!_ she thought as she waited for the boat that would most assuredly be there. _The least those two could do is show up on time!_

Potter and Weasley were late. And if they were going to be even later, they might screw up the entire mission altogether. _I knew we should not have involved them!_

She moved closer to the rocks behind her, their smooth, cool faces given her a small comfort. She knew she was covered when standing so close to the rock and her wearing black helps as well. 

__

Come on, Potter. I don't have all day! she fumed.

__

Finally!

she thought with little relief. She make out the small boat make it's way steadily towards the island. Within just a few moments, it had stopped short of the island a few meters. 

Still watching the craft closely, she could make out the two figures on the deck, one moving away from the other to... She looked more closely at the pair. It was hard to tell who was Potter and who was Weasley, but she could make out the figures. She took several steps forward, but she made sure she stayed out of the moonlight. _He's putting the ladder down,_ she realized. 

Then the figure started to climb down the ladder, unbeknownst to the danger he was about going to be in.

Her eyes widened as she realized the man didn't know what he was walking down into. Looking around and deciding to take a calculated challenge, she raced forward into the light, waving her arms and shouting for him to stop. It was risky, she knew, to be shouting when she could alert one of the sentries to their position, but she had to stop him from getting into the water. It was a calculated risk that no one was in the hearing range of them and hopefully no one is.

With her heart sinking, she watched as the scene unfurled. The man had turned to look at her and as close as she was, she knew he recognized her. It was at that moment that it looked as if Weasley lost his balance and fell into the very thing she was trying to get him to avoid.

_Oh fuck! That idiot Weasel!_ she thought contemptuously as she ran forward, splashing into the water. If she didn't do something now, it was likely that the mission she didn't even want to partake in was going to end before it even started.

* * *

Hermione busied herself nervously, moving from place to place, never lingering in one place for long, trying to tidy her already immaculate flat. Though Ron was at times a complete slob, years of marriage has long since changed her husband's errant ways for good. _And,_ she thought with a satisfied curl of her lip. _It was rather...educational to get Ron to...see things my way..._

She took a hold of a statuette, remembering how they had picked it up in Rome the third day of their honeymoon. It had been the first day they had ventured out of their hotel room and only after coaxing on her part. The small smile slipped off her face when she realized that she may never be able to 'convince' Ron of other small things in the future. She carefully placed the small statuette she had been holding and gave it one more stroke before she turned away. 

It just infuriates her that while she was standing by idly while her husband and their best friend risk their life for something that was in all likelihood not going to succeed in anything but their deaths. It was damn frustrating knowing that she couldn't do anything to help them. 

_I hate being so bloody useless!_ she raged in her mind, pacing back and forth. _Ron and Harry are out there alone and I don't know what's going to happen to them!_

Hermione stopped pacing abruptly, knowing that no matter how she beat herself up over it, it wasn't going to help Ron or Harry and neither was it going to help her relax. She gave the clock a glance. Nine o'clock. _They should be almost there... _

She was quite aware of the conditions that surround the island and just thinking about it made her wince as she imagined all the things that could happen just trying to get there. _No don't think about,_ she ordered herself. _Things will be a lot easier if you just don't think about it._

She sighed. _This is nuts._ For a moment she considered turning in early but the thought of her being safe in her bed while Ron risked his life was unsettling. She would never be able to get to sleep under these conditions.

Deciding that it wasn't going to work, Hermione grabbed her coat and apparated to the current Base of Operations. If she was going to be staying up all night, she might as well be staying up all night getting some work done. Even though they were with magic, they still manage to be overwhelmed with paperwork.

No one even blinked at her sudden appearance at the heart of the Base of Operations. She was a regular there -- keeping an office here and at the Ministry. She mostly worked out of the Ministry but at times she would stay at the base. 

Hermione allowed herself a bittersweet smile as she remembered the fuss Ron had made when she first told him she was going to have an office at the base. He had ranted and pouted for days, trying to make her see that it wasn't the most smartest nor safest thing she has ever done. And when he found out that the posting had been her choice, he had been absolutely insufferable.

She had assured him that all she would be doing was paperwork and that most of the time, she wouldn't even be there, but still Ron would not budge. It wasn't until she had reminded him that _he_ was there everyday, risking _his_ life so why can't she at least be allowed to work a few times a week at the most guarded, important strongholds that they have? After that, Ron could do nothing else but accept it, even if he was worried for her.

"Ms. Granger?"

Hermione was catch right as she was one arm in and one arm out of her coat. She had taken the Weasley name as her own, but when she was working, she answered only to her own. "Mistia?"

"You wanted to be appraised of the American situation?"

"Yes, yes of course. Is there a new development?" Hermione eased the rest of the way out of her coat and slung it over an arm. She started walking briskly over to her office with Mistia trailing behind her.

"The Americans have backed off on their threat but they are still demanding to be a part of the situation."

Hermione nodded absent-mildedly, throwing her coat on the small sofa in her office. "That's fine. They have vested interests in the Singapore attack but make sure they understand that so do we. This is a partnership -- they wouldn't even know about it if it weren't for us. We will not be cut out of this."

Mistia nodded, Hermione's every word being recorded on the small notebook in her pocket. "Of course, Ms. Granger."

Hermione moved over to behind her desk and looked at the young woman waiting patiently in front of her. "Are our people ready?"

"They're moving in place even as we speak," Mistia answered promptly.

"Good. Have you let Robbins know?" Robbins, her right-hand man was supposed to be coordinating the counterattack, his first real assignment ever since he had been assigned to her two years back. At time she had been at odds with herself with whether or not to assign this mission for him to oversee (it was his first real solo assignment) but she knew he needed this to stretch his wings, to show that he really could this by himself.

"Of course. He had been informed of everything as it has come available." Mistia paused, hesitating. She opening her mouth to say something, but not really sure if she should.

"What is it?" Hermione questioned, seeing the secretary hesitate. 

"Are you...okay?"

The concern in her voice touched her and she was secretly pleased that Mistia cared enough to ask. "I'm..." For a moment she considered lying to avoid any more questioning, but she couldn't. "I'm coping." Hermione gave Mistia a weak smile. "It never gets easier and in this case, it's become a lot harder."

Mistia nodded in sympathy. "Don't worry," she eased. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Ron and Harry are a formidable pair."

"So they tell me," Hermione agreed. "But I'm still worried."

"If you've got a moment, Dumbledore would like to see you in his office."

Hermione looked up in surprise. Her shock must have showed on her face because Mistia quickly added, "He knew you would be in before the night is out."

She didn't bother looking surprised any more. It was just like him to be like this. Years of working with and around Dumbledore had taught her never to judge him too lightly. Just as you think you've got him figured out, he would something to disrupt all of your carefully reasoned dispositions about him. Sometimes when she was really stressed she wondered if Dumbledore was...more than human. But that was ridiculous, she told herself, telling herself that Albus Dumbledore was just a great man who did great things. But sometimes she wondered...

"Fine. I'll be there in a bit."

Mistia nodded and walked over to Hermione. She placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and told her to hold on. "It'll be okay, you'll see." With that she dropped her hand and walked out, leaving Hermione suddenly feeling more alone and more isolated than ever.

She wished she had Mistia's confidence that everything would be fine. _Am I like this with every mission?_ She couldn't remember if she was and if she was, if it had ever been as bad as this time. 

Hermione sighed tiredly. Reaching for the folder at the corner of her desk, she briefly wondered how much longer she could do this before she retreated to the safety of Dumbledore's office. She opened it up, glancing over the information on the papers inside and tried to catch the words of the report of the current actions of their team in Singapore who were coordinating the counter-attack. The benefit of having magic was the ever changing updated information but sometimes it goes by so quickly that one would have to be a speed reader to catch everything before it disappeared again.

__

Death Eaters not in sight. Predicted time of attack: 2350

Teams Alpha-Delta have reported in on the Yanks' side and are in place.

Commander Gehrig has taken command of field agents. 

Mulligan still hasn't reported in -- Robbins slightly worried.

The last statement stayed for a total of 25 seconds before it was replaced by another statement, something about Captain Johnson's troops on the American side causing a fuss, but Hermione wasn't worried about that. Whatever it was, she knew Robbins could handle it -- he had become a great mediator when it came to the Americans. But Mulligan... That had Hermione on edge. It wasn't the fact that Robbins was worried -- he was worried about any slightest detail that could impede his first mission -- but the fact that Mulligan in the past have always been prompt in reporting in.

Sebastian Mulligan, petty thief and general lowlife. Raised on the streets of London, a Slytherin, but raised himself up on the criminal world every chance he got. He would do anything for a knut and would rather cut off a finger before he gave any of his money away. But despite all of that, he was still one of the most informative, most clever bastards out there. He knew the ins and the outs of almost everything as well had a finger in every pie as the saying goes and that made him very valuable -- to both sides.

But they had an edge over Voldemort. Mulligan was on their side and would never turn on them. The reasons motivating him were simple. Revenge. Guilt. He had been of Muggle descent, something he kept from the rest of his Slytherin house. His mother had been a witch, but she had taken off after his little sister Suzy had been born, leaving him and his sister with his drunk of a father. His father had been killed during the first time Voldemort had come into power, but Suzy had been killed in one of the little attacks Voldemort had staged only a few years back. With is father he didn't even bat an eye when he had found out he had died. In fact, he had rejoiced in the bastard's death. But Suzy...that had been unforgivable.

When asked what he had been doing that time, he would have told you he had been in the South Pacific, avoiding the little mess. He hadn't even had known his little sister had died until Hermione had approached him a year ago. It had been the only thing that she had over his head -- his beloved sister killed by a hated enemy.

They had known that Voldemort had instructed Malfoy in getting the aid of Mulligan, a man of his talents who wouldn't mind doing some dirty deeds with connections to high places was definitely something he wouldn't look over.

Draco had passed the information on to her, telling her that if she look deeper, she would find an ally in Mulligan. Hermione did and it seemed as if Draco's hunch had been correct. When Mulligan found out about his sister's death, he immediately wanted to sever ties with the Dark Lord, to try and take them out himself. But she managed to convince that it was in both of their interests to him to work both sides.

Mulligan may be scum, but he was loyal scum and who was bent on taking down everyone of the Death Eaters. He had taken their cause as his personal one and Hermione was sure he would stop at nothing to reach his goal.

That's why she had difficulty believing Mulligan would ever be late, would disappear without a trace. Anxious, she chewed on a bottom lip. This wasn't good. She raised her hands to massage her temples. Things were not looking good. _What else? What more can happen?_ Tired, she flopped the papers onto her desk. She didn't want to think about it tonight. _Let somebody else worry about it for a change, _she thought, deciding to leave it. But deep down she knew she wouldn't be able to avoid it forever. Sooner or later, most likely sooner, the urge to be on top of things would hit her and she would come back to it. She never could just sit back and let others run the show for her.

Hermione pushed her chair out, stretching a bit. Now, when she was feeling out of place and didn't want to do any work was as good as any time to see Dumbledore. She did say she would pop in for a while.

She quickly moved from her office across the nearly empty room over to Dumbledore's office. Mistia didn't even look up when she went past her desk and walked up to the door.

Before she even had a chance to knock, the door opened revealing a candlelit room and the man who had once been her Headmaster.

"Sir?"

"Come in, Ms. Granger."

She swiftly moved through the doorway. Dumbledore was off the side, fixing himself a drink.

"Tea?"

She shook her head no and took a stand in front of his desk, waiting for Dumbledore to address her.

"Mmm," Dumbledore grumbled. "There's nothing like a spot of hot tea to soothe the soul." He made the way back to the desk, settling his steaming cup on the desk. "Sit, sit. Don't be so stiff, Hermione."

Reluctantly, Hermione relaxed a bit and took a seat. "Sir, I'm concerned about Sebastian Mulligan--" she began, getting straight to the business at hand.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione!" Dumbledore interrupted. "I'm sure Mr. Robbins is more than capable of handling the situation. You on the other hand should be at home, but something told me you won't be sitting casually at home tonight."

"I can't stay there...surrounded by the things we've collected... Everything reminds me of him," Hermione admitted, looking at her feet.

"It's not a fallacy to feel concerned for your husband. Quite understandable really." Dumbledore turned an grabbed a tray of sweets and biscuits, offering it to Hermione. Still she refused and Dumbledore sighed. 

"The boys will be all right. I have the utmost confidence in the two of them."

"So do I! But," Hermione burst.

"But you're are still worried?"

Hermione nodded, not trusting her to speak. She couldn't put into words the turbulent emotions she was feeling, but she was afraid if she tried, she might not be able to stop until she was a blubbering mess.

Dumbledore sighed again. He reached for his cup and took a tentative sip of his drink. "I can't say I blame you. I'm concerned for the two of them as well, but they are in good hands. Reynard will see that they are not harmed during the trip, though he would never admit that he cares about anything other than Draco," Dumbledore said with a knowing smile. "And I'm sure whoever Draco has gotten to show them around the island would be good enough. He had been planning for this day for a long time now and though there's many unforseenable things that could happen, Draco has planned for most of the outcomes. His people would be prepared."

She knew all this already, but for some reason hearing Dumbledore telling her this reassured her even more. _This is Dumbledore right? He's never wrong... He'll never lie to me..._ Hermione tried to smile. "I suppose."

Dumbledore smiled, glad that he had managed to relieve at least some of the tension from her face. "Good girl. Now onto important matters."

Hermione subconsciously leaned closer, the hint of something new sparking her interest. Something was afoot, she could just feel it. It was times like this that reminded her what she loved about her job. The thrill of discovery, she was on the hunt and she could almost touch her prey. "Tell me," she ordered tersely, barely hiding her excitement.

"It concerns the Ministry of Magic in Switzerland. Intel has suggested for the past week that they are finally going to take a stand. Same thing with the Dutch."

"To our side or theirs?" Hermione questioned, her mind going straight to the business at hand. 

Dumbledore shrugged. "We don't know, but we hear they are scared. It seems as if they might have gotten a sniff of what's to come, something big and they're scared."

"They want to be on the winning side's good graces," Hermione concluded. A nod from Dumbledore confirmed her suspicion. "But--"

"We don't know," Dumbledore answered even before she had a chance to get the question out. If she wasn't so used to him being so prophetic, she would have been annoyed at the constant interruptions. But that was just another quirk in Dumbledore's personality. 

"Could this be the attack on the Muggles Draco has been trying to get out?" 

Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't think so. It could be, but it seems a little too simplistic for my tastes. No, the Ministries of Switzerland and the Netherlands wouldn't be too concerned over a large Muggle assault. At least not enough for them to deflect to Voldemort's side."

Silently, Hermione agreed with him. There was no way that they would go over to the Dark just because of a little complication which was what a Muggle would be basically. _There has to a some other reason,_ she reasoned. Switzerland and the Netherlands were two very important countries. If they turned to Voldemort's side, the war would become more hopeless. For years they have managed to stay neutral, much like in the Muggle world, but as of late it's become increasingly harder and harder to maintain their neutrality. Not when the Dark Lord has been gaining more and more control over the Wizarding world. Already three countries have fallen on this continent alone and 13 more in the rest of the world. Whether or not they wanted to admit it, they were in trouble. The only thing keeping them from total domination was the work of the British Ministry of Magic and other governments like it still standing. They could not afford to lose two more European countries to them.

Hermione worried herself on her bottom lip. "Could this Muggle attack be a diversion? Something to keep us focused in the wrong direction?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Exactly my thoughts, my dear. But I suppose we won't know for sure until Draco comes out of Malos Island and tells us. Assuming he knows about whatever this is?"

She frowned, his words not sitting well with her. "What do you mean? Surely they wouldn't have kept this from one of their highest ranking Death Eaters?"

Looking nonchalant, Dumbledore shrugged. "Draco's capture has been a surprise to all of us, but I don't think it was an hasty arrest. But I could always be wrong."

Hermione fell silent. _He's right._ As always. But to think that they knew Draco has been passing information to them beforehand... It was inconceivable, if only for the reason that if they had, they were suddenly in so much more of bind.

"I suggest you get a good night's sleep, Hermione and if you can't sleep, think more about what I've told you tonight. Talk to Mistia, she will give you the appropriate materials concerning this."

Hermione nodded, getting up stiffly. Since she couldn't even think about sleeping that night, work on this matter would be best. Something that could be this important needed extra attention. 

* * *

"Yah!" Ron yelled, his arms failing wildly as he hit the water with a impressive splash, landing in a patch of seaweed. He tried to stand but he found that it was too deep for him to stand upright. As he battled the slick but clingy seaweed, he tried to keep a float.

"Ron!" Harry called down, his eyes squinting in the dark. Ron could see the soft glint of the moonlight reflecting off his glasses. "You okay?"

"Ye-ek!" Ron cried out, feeling a tight pressure on his arms and legs. He had started to say that he was okay, but as soon as he felt the squeezing start the affirmation turned into a shout. 

"Ron? Ron!"

__

Oh bloody hell! Ron cursed, his arms reaching to rip the bloody pieces of plant off his body, but finding his arms hell immobile. He struggled to free himself, but with every jostle he was getting more and more entangled in the mess. "Harry?" Ron called out, his voice raised an octave. "I think I've got a problem here!" 

Harry strained his eyes, his feet already on the ladder to go down and help his alarmed friend. "Ron? Answer me!"

"Harry?" Ron squeaked, the tightening of the seaweed on his body blocking his air flow. "Help!" Ron tried to twist around, but could only get himself more caught. In the dimness of the light, he glances around wildly, trying to find some way, _any way_ to free himself. "Oh God," he breathed silently, his eyes falling a mass of seaweed -- moving it's way toward him. His panicky mind yelled at him to get away, to run from the quickly approaching sea plants. 

But even as he was struggling, he didn't fail to notice a slight prickling, tickling him on the underside of a leg. He craned to neck, staining against the plants as he fought to raise his head up. He was breathless by the time he finally got enough resistance to pull his head up to a point where he could see his leg. Ron froze, his eyes wide and his head slamming back down to the water, making a small splash of water jump up. _Fuck! It's eating away at my clothes!_ And with a sinking feeling, he felt other places, his arms, his torso, every place that the plants were clinging to his body start that tingling feeling. He opened his mouth to yell, but the sight of the mass of seaweed moving towards him gave him a moments pause. A sound above him drew his attention away from the plants, and he realized with alarm that Harry was moving down to help. 

"No! Harry! You've--!"

* * *

A/N: I am so so so sorry for the long long wait! This one chapter was worked on and worked on and between beta readers, myself and my friend Kara (thank you so much Kara! Remember, you promised to review! And sorry that it wasn't up sooner...) it took a lot of time. And it's pretty long...

Tell me, would you rather have long chapters like this one or shorter ones that I used to do before? I just want to know...

Nataku's Child: Wow! Thanks! You got everything I was trying to convey! I've sent this story to two lists: Harry and Draco and DracoXHarry. The reason why you haven't read the newest ones on there is the fact that they're a few chapters behind. The slash-y-ness will slowly develop, hoping in the next few chapters it'll start...

Greyish blue? Great! Just the color I was looking for! :)

Tora: Thank you! You also got everything I was trying to convey, especially the personalities and interactions. That was my main purpose to start this story.

I don't know if intriguingly is a word, but thanks anyway! It's nice to know my writing is intriguing... :) 

I popped by your website to see my fanfic, but I couldn't get onto the fanfic page... Do you know why?

And sorry, I didn't realize I did say I was in a little of a writers' block slump. My bad.

Kelly: Thank you and Draco will show up in the next chapter, count on it. It might not be much though (he's still pretty out of it), but he'll be there.

WildfireFriendship: As I said to Kelly, Draco is going to show up next chapter, so be prepared... 

Veefa: Much thanks! It means a lot to me that you find the character development and the plot good. It's what I hope is the best out of the whole story. Hell, I'm glad that it's not a total disaster...

Amaiko: So very, very sorry!!! I didn't realize you had put up a review (didn't check, sorry!) on the last chapter and I didn't include you in my notes. Sorry! I'm sorry about your computer and glad that's it's fine now. I don't know what I could do if my computer went out on me. 

Thank you so much! Personally, I'm a little attached to Reynard... :)

I want to thank all of you who've taken the time to respond. You really make my day, reading your reviews! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

For the I'm Not In Love readers: Thank you so much for reviewing, it really means a lot to me which I'm sure other writers can understand. I don't know that you are reading this story too, but on the off chance that you are, thank you.

Tionne: Here. I hope you like it. :)

Ambrosius: Thank you. I tried to put myself in Draco's shoes but I'm afraid I repeated myself too much...

PepperjackCandy: Love sweet stuff! I didn't think it came off too sweet though, but people seem to think so, so great! I've always wanted to do a "Draco tries to break up but end up confessing his love stories..."

To my beta, thank you so very much for all the work. And please give thanks to Kara, a great friend who insisted that I put in an action scene and was the reason why this chapter is so long. Thanks for all your help!

To readers, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW. I love reviews and I always try to respond to them.

Until next time.


	11. Chapter 10

**

Chapter Ten

**

  


_Stupid, idiot Weasel!_ she raved in her mind as her feet carried her to the island edge. As much as she tried, she couldn't bring herself to run faster, the hurt from so many years ago still paining her.

But as much as she tried to deny it, to deny _him_, she couldn't take the chance that Weasley's death could offset everything she hoped to accomplish. And that was enough for her. 

She came to an abrupt stop, her mind still rebelling against her, telling her _He's not worth it and You know you want to see him die_ all the while her -- what she thought to be long lost -- conscience told her levelly that she couldn't just let him be disintegrated to a pile of bones.

_But now that I think of it, it wouldn't be too bad to see Weasley as a pile of bones,_ she mused. _He certainly deserves it._

"Oh hell," she swore, giving up her musings and trudged into the water. Slowly she waded her way towards the small vessel only yards away. _Hopefully Potter will have more sense that his mindless partner,_ she thought as she squinted at the man on the side of the boat who seemed to stuck in place.

She deftly pulled out her wand, knowing fully that the Island charms that protected it excluded her and other Death Eaters and mumbled a small spell to take off some of the pressure the Sewecids were sure to be exerting on the man. Not that she cured. _No, not at all._

As she neared Weasley and the plants, she cast another spell, this time to repel the Sewecids away from her and to keep them away. She couldn't be of much help she was as careless as Weasley and got herself caught as well. Then where would they be?

"Managed to get yourself in a bind, Weasel?" she said quietly with a smirk as soon as she was in hearing distance.

"You?" Weasley managed to curl his lips in distaste even as the pain was reflected in his eyes. "You're our guide?" he asked in part disbelief and part disgust.

"That's right Weasel-Man," she said smugly, taking in the fix that he was in but making no move to help.

Weasley's eyes bulged at the insult and his face reddened as he sputtered. 

She raised a hand to stop the blubbering. "Save it. Now do you want me to help or not?" She was met with cold defiance. She raised an eyebrow. "Well?" she demanded.

It delighted her to see Weasley twist and squirm as he fought with his desire to be free and to get away from the acid that was rapidly eating away at his clothing and the thought of being beholden her.

"I don't have all night Weasley and if you don't know, we've got a tight schedule to uphold."

Weasley glared. "Fine," he spat. "Anything to get away from _you_ faster."

"Hey, what's going on down there?" Harry called down, his voice soft but so soft that they couldn't hear him.

"Potter, so good of you to join us. Be a dear and stay where you are. One fool is enough to deal with," she called up, satisfied when she heard no further movements above her. _At least one of them has enough sense to stay still._

She paused, trying to think up the spell that released the Sewecids from their prey. She'd never really had the chance to use the spell -- not really a need to -- and wasn't sure if the one she had in mind was the right one. 

"Let's see," she muttered to herself. "Was it liberare or premere?"

"What's taking you so long?" Weasley hissed, trying to move as far away from his clothes while he was still wearing them as possible. The burning sensation was getting a bit too intense for his comfort. "Hurry up!"

She glared at him. "I could leave you like this. The Sewecids are unforgiving plants -- they'll reduce you to nothing. Do you really want to end up like that?" She snorted. "God knows you deserve to die."

"I was 14!" Ron protested, a hint of desperation seeping into his voice.

"So was I!" she snared. "Premere!" 

Ron squawked as he felt the vines tightening their hold on him. "Hey!"

She watched with rapt fascination. She had waited years for this moment and she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. Ronald Weasley, squirming under her, held between life and death and she with the power to decide which direction he will go -- it was something she had dreamed about.

_You know it can't last,_ her internal voice told her. She chose to ignore it. _You can't ignore me forever, you know. You've tried and you know you've never been able to do it._

If she could, she would have to herself to shut up, but she refused to acknowledge that it even existed. 

_Let him go. He's no good to you if he's hurt. You'll have a useless man to worry about -- do you really want to carry his sorry ass around when you have a mission to do?_

Damn. She really hated when it was right. Weasley would only hinder them during the mission. At this point, it was complicated enough without her trying to muddle things up even more. 

So against her better judgment to let Weasley rot, she point her wand at the pitiful lump floating in the shallow water and cast the spell, but not without a telltale grimace on her face.

Weasley sighed in relief when he finally felt the plants start to loosen. For a moment he thought he was doomed, the past coming up to bite him. Soon as they were relaxed enough for him to slip out, he did, moving away from the plants as far as possible, eyeing them as if they would mysteriously come back to hurt him.

_Weasley cowering in fear,_ she savored, knowing that these little things were all she will get. She cleared her throat. "All's clear, Potter. You can come down now."

Potter steadily shuffled down the ladder, landing in the water with small splash. He gave an odd look to Ron, who was pushed up against the side of the boat. "What the hell happened down here?" Potter demanded, turning around to face their guide. 

"Bloody hell," he swore when he saw her face.

"Nice to see you too Potter," she greeted. "Weasley here just got tangled with a patch of Sewecids."

"I'm surprised you didn't let him die," Potter commented, moving towards Weasley and prying him away from the boat. 

"Yeah, well so am I." She turned away, moving slowly towards the coast. _You don't know how close I was to it._ "Come on; we're wasting valuable time."

Weasley and Potter reluctantly followed her, the three of them walking in silence. When they reached the beach, she muttered a quick spell to dry their clothing off.

"I thought you couldn't practice magic on this island," Weasley whispered to Potter, his voice not as quiet as he thought it was.

"That doesn't include the people who work here," she answered tersely, turning her head to glare at the man. _What an ignorant fool!_

Her hatred of Ronald Weasley was deeply rooted within her. What he had done, she could not forgive -- never in a thousand years if she lived that long. _Never,_ she vowed.

_FLASHBACK_

"An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students from resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples," Professor Spout lectured. 

"I wish I had known about that before," Eloise muttered under her breath, squeezing her bubotuber with vengeance. She looked up, her eyes darting around the room to see if any one was staring at her.

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

Eloise reddened. It was hard enough to deal with it when they were speaking about her behind her back, but couldn't they wait until she wasn't in the room?! Tears tickled her eyes as she furiously tried to blink them away before anyone noticed. 

It had been stupid; she knew it. But when you were plagued with taunts and teases, day in and day out, you would resort to anything to get rid of the stupid pimples. 

She looked up at the Gryffindors, seeking one out in particular. Ron Weasley with his flaming red hair and peppered freckles. She sighed. Ron, she thought, her eyes glazing over slightly as she stared at the Gryffindor. If he didn't care, then she would be happy.

But she froze at the sight that greeted him. Ron was discreetly point at her to his friends and...laughing at her! Her face twisted in disbelief, all hope draining from her as she paled. He was laughing at her!

END FLASHBACK

It wasn't just the laughing -- she could have forgiven that. Boys would be boys, right? They were supposed to be so insensitive and besides, he could have forgotten that she was a Hufflepuff as well.

But later, when Alicia Spinnet had been talking to her friend Angelina as they passed her unwittingly in the hall, that had been what broke the camel's back.

_FLASHBACK_

"I can't believe you're going to the ball with Fred!" Alicia interjected.

Angelina shrugged. "Why not? He's kinda cute."

"Yes, but did you hear what his brother said last night?"

"Last night?" 

Alicia nodded. 

"Which brother?"

"The little one, Ron."

Eloise looked up at the mention of Ron as she did whenever anyone ever mentioned him. She looked up and down the hall, seeing nobody but them walking in it. She quietly moved up, not so much to alert the two girls to her presence but enough so that she could hear everything clearly.

Angelina shook her head, leaning closer as if to share a secret. "What?"

"He and Harry were talking about how they better get a move on finding dates to the ball and Ron said something about how they 'don't want to end up with a pair of trolls'." Alicia shook her head at the stupidity of boys sometimes.

"A pair?"

"You know, Ron and Harry," Alicia explained.

"Oh, right!" Angelina fell silent. "Well, I don't see why you're making such a fuss over this. Sounds like typical male behavior." She shrugged.

"Yes," Alicia argued. "But you didn't hear what he said next. Besides, even if they are male doesn't excuse them."

She nodded at her friend's pronouncement. "So what did he say next?"

Eloise inched closer, her curiosity piqued as well. Did he say something about her? Did Ron want to go to the ball with her? she thought hopefully.

"He said," Alicia paused dramatically. "He said he would rather go alone than with Eloise Midgen!"

Angelina gasped and it was all Eloise could do to not as well. She froze in her spot, but luckily so did the two of them.

"He didn't."

"He did. And what's worse is that he said her nose is off-center!"

"I can't believe him!" 

"I know," Alicia answered. "Poor Eloise... I can't believe someone could be so insensitive. Everybody in Hogwarts knows what she's been going through."

Eloise's eyes flashed with anger. How dare they! Her earlier hurt forgotten for the moment as she heard the girls' pity. She didn't need nor want it.

"Hmm." Angelina made some sympathetic noises. "What about Hermione during all this? You know how she is with Ron...?"

Alicia smirk. "Left in a huff. Right after Ron told her that he would go with the best looking girl that would have him even though she was horrible."

Angelina eyes' widened. "He said that?" she asked in disbelief, the two of them picking up their walk again.

Alicia nodded.

"No wonder she was acting so frigid to him at breakfast."

But by that time Eloise was no longer listening. She didn't move from her spot, even after Angelina and Alicia disappeared from view. Instead, she stood there, her eyes rimmed with tears and her heart broken in two. 

"A troll?" she said to herself after who knows many minutes. "I'm a troll?"

"Well I wouldn't say troll. That nose can be easily fixed you know."

She spun around at the new voice, shocked that someone else had heard her and had caught her in this vulnerable moment.

The boy she saw surprised her. There, only a few feet away from her was Draco Malfoy. 

"Cat got your tongue, Midgen?"

Catching herself before she had a chance to say something rash, she told herself to calm down. "What do you want?" No matter how she tried, she couldn't help the bitterness in her voice.

Malfoy held up his hands. "I just wanted to say I heard what happened."

She glared at the smaller boy. "So? You want to gloat?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "No, but I do want to say he's not worth it."

Her confusion must have shown because Malfoy took the last few steps until he was only inches away. His hand brushed her cheek. "The Weasel doesn't deserve this."

Eloise glanced down at the hand that wipes away a tear on her cheek and raised hers to brush at the place where Draco's had touched her. She looked up and looked into Draco's grey, stormy eyes and something in her clicked. "Thank you," she said with a smile that was quickly turning into a smirk.

"Anytime." With that Draco turned away and slowly strolled away, leaving Eloise alone once again.

He was right, she realized. Weasley wasn't worth the trouble. But, she also thought. I can't forgive him for what he said. He may not be worth it, but I will never forgive him."

END FLASHBACK

And she never did. Her hate and animosity for Weasley just grew. Year after year, she would spend loathing him and devising ways to take him down a peg or two, preferable make him fall off the damn ladder.

_Come to think of it, I did,_ she realized a genuine smile.

"What? What is it?" Potter questioned, seeing the giddy smile on their guide's face.

Eloise's face hardened. "Nothing," she denied, her voice cold. "I assume you have invisibility cloaks?"

They nodded briefly.

She gave them a self-depreciating smile. "Good." She nodded towards the inside of the island. "I don't know if you've been informed or not, but this island can not detect the use of an invisibility cloak. There are a few creatures however that can see through it, but for the most part, they are not nocturnal."

"That's a relief," Ron whispered.

"Let's keep the commentary to ourselves," she ordered. "And put those cloaks on. Because of your little stunt, Weasley, we are off in a our schedule and we have only a minute or so until the next round of guards come passing through here. It's going to be hard to guide you through this place when I can't see what you're getting into, but that's how it's going to have to be. If they just see me, they wouldn't think anything of it as I have had a tendency to prowl around at night, making sure that everything is fine."

As they donned their cloaks, Eloise spared no time in waiting for them to finish. "Just walk where I walk and don't touch anything and you'll be fine, understood?"

They fell into an uneasy silence, but at least the two of them quiet gave her time to think. Did she want to screw the two of them over? As much as she hated Weasley, she respected Potter. And after years of being at Draco's side had taught her insight that no one else could. It would too much of a blow if Potter was to die or get capture and she knew if that happened, Draco could never forgive her and that would be worst of all.

But her burning need to hurt Weasley wouldn't, couldn't go away. Years of hating him, to the point of loathing him couldn't be forgotten so easily. 

She had taken her hate and she had warped it to something unrecognizable. She had let her hate consume her. She plotted Weasley's eventual downfall, devised ways of hurting him that were not right. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have realized she had fallen into an unhealthy obsession.

Even after Draco Malfoy had told he was not worth it, she continued to hate Weasley. It was that hate that kept her going through school, through the taunts about her 'off-center' nose, her acne, her stupidity about her trying to curse her acne off. That and Draco Malfoy himself.

After Weasley, she realized what a mistake it had been to _like_ Weasley in the first place. After the incidents, she couldn't even remember why she had liked him in the first place. In her mind, Draco was a much better crush. Smarter, cuter, richer, everything that Weasley was not.

She would hear the gibes he would get from Draco and she would wonder, why didn't I realize that? His family was too overridden, infested with too many children that they didn't know what to do with. They were poor, they were useless. Why they even bother with Muggles was beyond her -- even though Hermione was a good friend of hers.

At first she had considered Hermione to be a rival; a blind man and _his dog_ could have seen the feelings she obviously felt for Weasley, but after hearing what he had said about her, she remember feeling that Hermione was welcome to such rubbish. She sure as hell didn't want anything to do with him.

But when they started going out openly, she couldn't help but hope that their relationship would fail. She couldn't bare anything that caused Weasley happiness and Hermione did. Then she would feel horrible afterwards. It was a lot easier to hope that the boy who spurn you died than it is to hurt a friend's feelings. And while she didn't have too many friends, Hermione had been a true friend, one that had stuck out for her, even when she had gone through her awkward puberty. When no one was there for her, Hermione had been. If for that much, she owed her. 

Draco Malfoy had left her alone the rest of fourth year but in fifth, something happened. She didn't know what or why, but thanked the Gods everyday that it did happen. He approach her tentatively at first, easing into the role of 'friend'. As enamored as she was with him, she had been absolutely thrilled to be spending time with Draco.

It was during fifth year that she noticed a new changes in his demeanor as well. He had become more distracted, his thoughts seemingly on something other than that potion Snape had assigned or the three feet on common Muggle folk-creatures. But if you were to just see him, you would never notice it. He was still the same Malfoy, still insulting Potter and Weasley, making fun of Hermione, but his jeers lacked the passion and the fire it once had. They were taken the same way, but she could feel differences. He didn't care anymore and that bothered her.

As time went on, her hate for Weasley grew. She would find new ways to hate him -- hate he way he treated women, hate the way he would laugh at somebody less than he was, hate how he would jokingly make fun of people without regard for their feelings. She refused to see the good points in him, as far as she was concerned, he had _no_ good points.

She moved away from her friends, the few she had as well and moved closer to Draco. He understood her hate and helped her develop it, to work through it through. He helped her to understand it and help her to understand herself. And in doing so, he help her become more than just Eloise Midgen, that silly girl who tried to curse her acne off in the fourth year.

When he wasn't with his cronies, he could be found where ever she was. It was that simple. It even gotten to the point that people started thinking that they were going out, much to Pansy's chagrin.

Eloise quirked a smile at that, remembering how it exhilarating it had been to have people think you are Draco Malfoy's girlfriend. Not that there was an ounce of truth in it though. Despite her advances, Draco remained steadfast that their relationship would never be anything but platonic. Much to her disappointment but she respected his decision. It was for the best anyway. Draco was more like a brother than a lover.

It took him a few years to trust her with his plan, with what he had been working on for years now. He finally told her the truth in the summer of seventh year, right after he had shown her the dark mark that graced his arm. At first she had been a bit revolted, but her disgust quickly turned to admiration as she realized that Draco's plans weren't exactly halfcocked. They could actually work.

Ever since that moment, she knew that her place was with him. She joined him in their cause with Draco paving the road for her as Draco's father Lucius had once done for his son. She eventually became a Death Eater but she didn't mind. If it reached the desired end, then she was satisfied.

It was times like that that she wondered why she wasn't placed in Slytherin than Hufflepuff. _If you ask me, I would have made a very good Slytherin. _

"No don't touch that!" Eloise snapped as she saw a floating hand reach towards a tree branch to move it out of his way. The hand instantly recoiled, inches away from touch it. "That's a Imatu Tree. Its exterior is highly poisonous and extremely lethal." She carefully moved around it. "Don't touch anything. Don't step on anything. _Don't do anything._ Just follow my lead. I'm sure you'll stay relatively unharmed if you do as I do." She turned around to face them. "Understood?"

They didn't respond but for a moment two floating heads appeared out of thin air and nodded their ascent. Satisfied, Eloise turned back and resumed her walk.

A couple minutes into the walk, they had twisted and turned on the paths Eloise were leading them through. Abruptly she froze. Her eyes scanned the pathway as a hand motioned for the two of them to be quiet and to stay hidden. 

Almost as if summoned, a pair of guards appeared around a bend, talking animatedly about a Quidditch game one had seen. But when they saw Eloise, they stiffened and stopped talking. She watched them with hooded eyes, daring them to do something, anything that she could admonish for as they walked past the three of them, giving Eloise a curt ma'am.

As soon as they were past, they started breathing once again. Harry hadn't even been aware that he _had_ been holding his breath in the first place. 

It was an interesting development. Eloise Midgen, the girl they had made fun of in Hogwarts, who later become a very prominent Death Eater and Draco Malfoy's right hand woman was their guide. It was almost as mind boggling as Draco Malfoy as the Grey Dragon. Harry shook his head, mainly for his benefit as no one would be able to see him. _Who would have thought?_

"Hurry up," she whispered under her breath, resuming her stride and moving more quickly. 

"We would if we knew where we are going," Ron snapped peevishly.

"If you knew where you are going, you wouldn't need me, would you?" Eloise snapped right back.

Ron reddened furiously and open his mouth to retort. Harry took the moment interject. "Let's keep it down, okay? It won't do us any good if we get caught." For a brief moment, he wished they wasn't under the invisibility cloak so he could gauge his friend's expression. He glanced over to Eloise, her face a mask. _She knows it. But what she knows doesn't mean she agrees._ It was just too much. _Forget it,_ he tried to tell himself but his common sense told him Eloise was not to be trusted. _The old Eloise maybe, but the new?_ He tried to push it away, pushing ahead.

Ron fumed under the invisibility cloak. No matter how much he understood Harry, he still didn't like being scolded like a little child. _And it was her fault in the first place!_ It always seemed like Eloise was out to get him, even back when they were Hogwarts. Why, he had never understood. _It wasn't as if I had slighted her._

They continued their trek in silence, the two men glancing around occasionally to look at a particular plant that looked odd or a moment in the corner of their eyes. They had no time to speculate, but they each had questions in their eyes -- even if no one else could see them. Eloise didn't as so much twitch throughout the whole walk.

As they neared the dour Manor, Harry's breathing quickened. _This is it,_ Harry thought. _Malos Manor, the place where Dennis died._ Even though it had been three years ago, Dennis Creevey's death still hit him hard. He had only been 20 years at the time. There had been no reason why Dennis was unmasked and captured. No reason at all.

_We'll be more lucky this time,_ Harry vowed. Getting a prisoner out of Malos Island successfully was just what they needed and God knows _he_ wasn't going to let another die in this dismal place.

Eloise led them to a side door to the Manor. She glanced around, making sure the coast is clear before opening the door. She peeked inside and when she was satisfied that no one was around, she moved inside, holding the door for the two of them.

"You can chuck the cloaks now," she told them, speak in a normal tone of voice. "There's no one here beside us and the guards and they're all outside."

When they refused and Eloise didn't see a body or two materialize in front of her, she placed her hands on her hips and glared at where she thought they were standing. "Don't trust me?" she growled. "I'll have you know, this has been my post for over five years! I'm the one who makes the damn schedules here and when I say there's no one here, there's no one here!"

_I doubt that,_ Harry thought out loud. Some things just didn't add up. For example, if there was no one in the Manor besides them, why did Eloise peek inside before going in? He asked her that.

She bristled at the audacity of his question. "Because," she bit out through her clenched teeth, "you can never be too careful with these types of things. While I'm almost positive most of the Death Eaters are in Singapore right now having a ball, I can't be positive that _all_ of them have left. A few might just prefer to play with the prisoners below more."

It confirmed Harry's belief that they shouldn't take off the invisibility cloaks just yet. If there was even a minuscule chance that they could be spotted, they couldn't take the chance.

Harry walked up to Eloise quietly, trying not to be heard. She was standing still, her body tense as she stared straight ahead. "We can't take that chance," Harry spoke directly. 

Eloise rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Swerving as something brush him, Harry turned to see nothing. "Harry's right, Midgen," Ron's voice came next to him. "Besides, it's better to be safe than sorry."

"Have it your way, Weasley," Eloise dismissed. "Come on, the dungeons are this way." She pointed to the left. "They're in the basement, the lowest floor. It minimizes the screams that way," she said casually.

Both Harry and Ron individually started at the matter of fact way she just said that. _How could she be so cold-hearted?_ Harry wondered, thinking of quiet, unobtrusive girl he had known back at Hogwarts. Sure, he wasn't that well acquainted with her, but he had known she had been one of Hermione's friends. That was of course before she started her friendship with Malfoy. After that, Eloise had started avoiding them.

Harry's eyes widened as he realized he had been left behind while he had been woolgathering. He sprinted until he had finally caught up to her at the closed door at the end of the hall. 

When Eloise threw open the wooden door, Harry peered in to see a darkened stairway. _Ominous,_ he commented. _I hope that not trying to tell me something..._

"Harry?" 

He heard a shuffle next to him. "Ron?" Harry reach out and caught a hold of what he guessed was Ron's arm.

"This doesn't feel right."

The quiet, too calm voice was a dead giveaway. Ron was freaking.

"Don't worry. We'll be fine," he tried to soothe, hoping he sounded believable. He heard some deep breaths being let in and drawn out. "Breath, that's a good idea."

"You two done?" Eloise interrupted, impatiently. 

That pretty much broke their conversation and the three of them made their way down the stairs. Eloise had whipped out her wand and lit the way for them using wand light.

It wasn't the dark that got on Harry's nerves -- he had gotten over his fear of the dark years ages ago. It was the moans and groans, the occasional scream and yell that raise his hackles. 

The hairs on the back of his neck raised as another piercing moan can out of no where causing them all to still.

"My God..." Ron breathed in horror. "Just what the hell are you guys doing down here?"

Eloise's stiffened, her face hard and her eyes shuttered. "You don't want to know," she answered and resumed walking. 

It infuriated and annoyed the hell out of Harry, hearing the screams of pain, walking down there, knowing that they were undetectable but at the same time, powerless to do anything to help his people. They were the countless witches and wizards that have been captured because they were on his side and _he couldn't do anything to help them._ That above all else, made him the most upset. And the fact that the only reason why they were attempting this rescue in the first place, wasn't for their sake, but for _Draco Malfoy's_ sake. That also annoyed him no end.

They made it down the stairs with no more major interruptions. At the bottom, Harry could see a long row of cells on both sides and the way lit up by torches in between the doors to the cells.

As they made their way down the way, Harry refused to look into the small peepholes near the top of the metal doors. He couldn't put himself through that. To see them -- even if they couldn't see him -- would be too much. He couldn't -- wouldn't -- put himself in that position.

The sound of Eloise's boots striking the hard stone vibrated off the walls, echoing until the sounds disappeared only have new ones take their place. Harry listened to them intently: click click swish cli cli click click click swish cli cli click. _Nice rhythm,_ he thought, determined to get his mind on something -- anything -- other than what have happened to the prisoners of Malos Manor.

They stopped at an inconspicuous metal door, just like all the other metal doors there, nothing special about it. _Funny,_ Harry thought. _You'd think that there would be something different about this cell -- holding the most entrenched informant we have..._

With a wave of her wand, she had the door opened, the squeaking hinges making me wince. She walked into the cell confidently, her head held up high, but her eyes not really looking at anything in particular.

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak off, feeling that it was somehow wrong to be hiding under it even as they enter the sanctity of the cell. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ron do the same. They entered the cell together, both revealed and their bodies braced for anything to hit them.

What they saw gave them pause. Dimly Harry heard Ron gasp, but he was too stunned to do anything. The sight of the body, lying on his side, a pool of blood circling him was just the beginning. It was the dried blood, splattered on the cold, hard stone that caught his breath. It was that that spoke the most to him, mocking him and telling stories of past horrors.

Harry slowly made his way to the corner of the cell, with both Ron's and Eloise's eyes on his back. Crouching down, he reach out tentatively, almost afraid to touch the man.

He hadn't changed much in nine years, but if Harry was honest with himself, he didn't expect him to. Malfoy had been the one constant in his life, something that still haven't changed. He was still the antagonist, even unconscious, beaten to a pulp, Malfoy was still ending his sense into overdrive, his heart pumping furiously as his blood rushed in his ears. _But something has changed hasn't it?_ he asked himself, as he touched the reddened blond hair. _He is no longer only evil and I...I am no longer only good._ "Draco..." Harry whispered, his voice full of sorrow and pity. At such a close proximity to the other man, he could see that Malfoy's black robes were soaked with blood, his usually pale face caked with blood. 

He looked down to the hard floor, seeing long dried blood and looked back up at Malfoy, wondering what was wrong with the picture. Other than the dried blood, there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong with him. No unusual cuts or bruises one would expect on a torture victim. Sad as it may be it was true.

Harry looked up, his eyes questioning and his face clearly showing his bafflement.

"It's a spell," Eloise spoke up, her voice dry. "Heaven on Earth. It wasn't even supposed to be used for another month... Nasty little bugger -- heals you up, fills you up with so much good feelings that it just makes it absolutely unbearable to have it ripped from you later on. Draco said...Draco said..." her voice broke on the name. Harry could almost hear the tears in her words as she spoke. "Draco said..." She was more confident this time. "How could you expect to break a person, if they never understand what it was they were losing." 

Ron's eyes were wide with disbelief, as they were for almost the entire time, from the moment they entered the cell until now, as he watches his best friend crouch and touch Malfoy. _My God. My God._ "How could you do this to one of your own?" he wondered in distaste. No one answered him, but no one needed to. He realized with dismay that it was the fact that it was one of their own that they had done this to him.

As much as he hated Malfoy, he couldn't but feel sickened that a person could do this to another person. He had seen many things in his day -- had seen many things while he was _still in school_ -- but it still sickened him when he saw something new. It amazed him how humans -- be it Muggles or Wizards -- come up with so many different ways to hurt someone else. _Heaven on Earth,_ he thought. _How the hell do they come up with this stuff?_ The pain you can block out after a while, but fill a person with good feelings only to take it away again? It was inhumane! _Just like Malfoy,_ he thought with a snarl. And because he was Malfoy, Ron couldn't help feel like the guy had deserved what he had gotten. It ashamed him to admit it, but he felt it was justified that Malfoy got a bit of what he had dished out in the past. 

"How do we get him out of here?" Ron finally spoke up, disrupting the silence that had fallen on the three of them.

"I can't help you there, this is as far as I go," Eloise tossed out.

Harry whipped his head around. "How can you leave him like this?" he nearly growled, barely able to control himself. _How could anyone leave him like this?_ If the blood was any indication of what had happened in that little cell, Malfoy would be in pretty horrible shape once he wakes up. He reached out again, this time laying a hand on a shoulder, the fabric under his fingers stiff. With a jolt he realized why it was so stiff and instantly recoiled.

Eloise glared at Harry, furious at him for suggesting that it was easy for her to leave Draco like that. "I can't exactly do anything. I would if I could, but _I can't._ Don't you think I would have tried to rescue him before this? I would have if it weren't for you and that stupid old man of yours. And now you ask me how I can leave him like this?" She stalked over to the crouching man and leaning in real close. "Let me tell you how. Because I know Draco would want me here. Like or not, this place is the most fortified Death Eater encampment. You're people have never left this place alive or have you forgotten little Dennis Creevey?" she sneered.

She didn't even know what hit her. Harry was up so fast, had grabbed onto her robe and thrusted her against the hard wall before she came back to herself. 

"Don't you _ever_ talk about Dennis like that!" Harry blazed, his voice hard as steel.

Eloise shoved Harry's arms away, her face sneering. She calmed a bit, breathing deeply a few times. "Draco would want me here, wouldn't want me to endanger myself," she said softly. "I'm one of the few that he trusts who works here. He'll need me and I can't do anything if I leave." She gave the two of them a pointed look. "You do understand that, don't you?" her voice held a slight incredulous tone, almost as if she was surprised to hear that they don't understand.

Neither Ron or Harry answered and Eloise continued talking. "Take him and get the hell out of here. Please tell me you weren't asleep when we made our trek here," she asked rhetorically. "You should know your way back and --"

"Well, well. Isn't this nice and cozy?" a male voice interrupted behind them.

They swerved around to see a procession of Death Eaters with their wands out and ready, dressed in their usual black crowding the entrance. 

Eloise's face twisted in shock as she had her wand out and pointed at the man. It was all so clear all of a sudden. "You!"

The leader of the group grinned smugly. "A traitor, the Boy Who Lived and his little partner, all for the price of one. Can it get any better than this?" he laughed.

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, both holding their wands ready, but they both knew they were trapped. Harry glared at the man who was looking at them menacingly and...with a hint of gratification. It was that more than anything that made him feel as if there was no hope. Harry gave Malfoy's unmoving body a worried look. _How can I save him now?_

* * *

A/N: This chapter took a lot faster than I thought it would. Less than two weeks -- that's good for me! Draco made an appearance in this chapter as I said he would, but alas, he's still unconcious. He'll wake up in the next chapter though.

I had been worried about Midgen coming across as a Mary Sue, so much that I researched all the requirements for one and I can safely say, she may be a little Mary Sueish, but she isn't. My beta reader also assured me she wasn't, so I'll defer to her wisdom. But you tell me, is she too Mary Sueish? It's funny really, one of the things I had tried _not_ to do with this story was not put in a Mary Sue and here I am with a girl who is...a little suspicious.

I bet you all thought it was Pansy. Personally, I would have liked to cast role as Pansy. It would have work well, I think, but Kara convinced me not to.

Tionne: Glad you liked it! Especially the Dumbledore Draco part. I was a bit worried about that. And giggling is the right word. You're from Finland? I have a pen pal from Espoo. Is that anywhere near you?

SoulSister: Betcha you never thought it was her!

Kara: You responded! Great! Have you figured out why it was repeated yet?

ailsinjinn: Thanks! Hope this satisfies.

Enid: Thank you so so much! It wasn't that bad of a cliffhanger was it?

WildfireFriendship: And closer!

To I'm Not in Love readers (can you believe I actually got more reviews on that story? I can't...):

Blonde Ditz: Thanks! I was so excited to see you had reviewed. I really didn't think I would get any more!

Spirit and Essence: :) :) :) How do you like Gregon?

evilbunny: I love BBMak too! Everyone of their songs, I see a story. I've been thinking of doing on Ghost of Me and You.

Jay: Mucho gracias!

chrisseee667: So glad you liked it!

And lastly, thanks to Red Dragons Order for her help. She's a great betareader! And thanks to Kara for her insight. Until next time!


	12. Chapter 11

**

Chapter Eleven

**

Eloise burst free from her stupor and surged forward, pushing her way until she was face to face with the intruder. The men behind him tensed, their wands held ready and menacingly. She glared at them, her mouth snarling. A few shrank away, but most held their ground. 

Incensed that so quickly she had lost her position, Eloise silently fumed. "How could you?" she spat, her voice filled with loathing. "He did _everything_ for you; moved you up, kept you at his side. You were his oldest friend -- he _trusted_ you!"

"_Friend?_" he sneered. "You know what I was?" He leaned in closer. "_Cannon fodder._ It _suited_ him to have me by his side; Gregory was smart -- at least he got out in time."

Something clicked in Harry's head as he suddenly realize who it was that was threatening them. A glance over at Ron told him that he too had realized who it was.

_Vincent Crabbe? That thick-head bodyguard of Malfoy's?_ Harry glanced at the prone form next to him. _But I thought he and Goyle were totally devoted to him...?_ he wondered in shock. The last he heard, the three of them were still together, still wreaking havoc as they used to back at Hogwarts.

The man in question gave a wave of his hand as he dismissed the men behind him. "Go and wait outside." 

"But sir!" They hesitated, unsure what to do. "You'll be outnumbered!"

"Get out!" Crabbe yelled. "GET OUT!" he bellowed, his face red as he screamed for them to go.

Quickly, they scrambled over themselves to get out. If they weren't in such a grave situation, Harry would have been tempted to laugh at the Death Eaters bending themselves backwards in fear of Vincent Crabbe. He wasn't even that high up in the Death Eaters.

Crabbe turned back, slowly, unholy gleam in his eye. His face was collected as he looked over the three.

"Crabbe." Ron's lips curled in distaste. "That's befitting -- a traitor being betrayed by his own man."

"How could you, Vinny?" Eloise repeated, her face betraying her perplexity. "How could you!"

Crabbe tilted his head. "Do you know why I joined Malfoy's little circus in the first place?" he asked philosophically, ignoring Eloise's question. He went on before they could respond. "He," Crabbe said, pointed at Malfoy on the floor. "told me that I had a choice. I could either choose You-Know-Who, the choice that wasn't really a choice or I could join him in the fight against You-Know-Who. Fight a good fight he said, show those bloody Gryffindor's wrong who think we have nothing to offer this world but more evil." He paused for a moment, his eyes glassy but with a jolt, his eyes cleared and he resumed his speech. "You know what? _I_ don't know why I joined him. I never should have -- the good guy thing just isn't in my blood, but Draco always has a way of captivating his speakers. A silver tongue..." he trailed off, once again lost. "But you know what, Malfoy?" he was speaking to the body now. "You can't speak, you can't do that damn trick of yours where you open your mouth and I come running to obey! I'm the man in charge now! How do you like that!" Crabbe gave Malfoy a feral grin that would have been a tad fearful if he had been awake.

All through Crabbe's one sided conversation, Harry and Ron both watched as he became more and more agitated, as the crazy glint in Crabbe's eyes grew and grew until it was all they could see. When he started to rave at an unconscious body, they were a bit taken back, Eloise and Ron both moving back a few steps as Crabbe stalked over to the body, but Harry refused to budge from his spot. He looked up at the wild face of a man Malfoy must have once called friend and compadre and felt a pang of sympathy for Malfoy. He was no stranger to betrayal himself. _No I'm not,_ Harry thought regretfully. 

"Don't do this, Crabbe," Harry tried, futilely, even though he knew it probably wouldn't do any good.

"Don't do what? This? I've already done it! The deal's sealed Potter. I will forever be known as the man who brought down the Gregon, the Gregon's most trusted subordinate as well as the Boy Who Lived and the Weasel! That's worth all of the grief and trouble I went through with _him!_"

"It couldn't have been that bad," Harry appealed. 

"No," Crabbe agreed to their surprise. "Not always. It started off fun." He grinned that big stupid grin of his. "Especially when we would do in a prominent Ministry operative or one of Dumbledore's people. Like that black kid from Gryffindor... What was his name again?" he mused.

Both Ron and Harry saw red in their eyes at the ruthless mention of a fallen friend. Ron looked as if he was about ready to spring on Crabbe but a wand held ready warned him. 

"Don't even think about it Weasel. I would really hate to see you hurt."

"Really?" Ron spat. "Who was it that captured me three years ago with the Cruciatus?" 

Crabbe grinned at the memory it brought back. "That was me, wasn't it? How you twitched," he rubbed in.

Eloise glanced sharply at Ron who had emitted a low growl. There was something in his expression that she didn't like and as much as she would love to dismember Crabbe at the moment, she needed to plan. She glanced at Draco. _What would he do?_ She was at a lost. Suddenly unmasked and rendered vulnerable did that to a girl. 

They needed to get away from the dungeons, that much was clear. And her staying on the island was no more an option. Covertly she glanced around, searching and hoping for a way out to magically appear before her eyes. If she wasn't such a pessimist she would hope that some how there would be divine intervention, but there's no use in hoping for God to do something.

There was no way out through the cell door -- they were on the lowest part of the dungeons, the only thing surround them besides solid rock was solid earth. Even if they wanted or could blow their way out, they would never be able to. There'll be no place to go. 

They're was only that one way out and with it they'll have to get past both Crabbe as well as half a dozen armed Death Eaters. Thinking about it made her wince, but she quickly masked her expression. It wouldn't do her any good for her to give herself away before she even tries to escape.

Harry glanced around, much as Eloise had done moments before, assessing their situation. _The Death Eaters are a hindrance,_ he admitted. _But,_ he countered. _We still have our wands for some reason._ It seemed as if Crabbe had forgotten that they were still on them, even though they had held them up and posed only a few moments ago. But when they realized that he seemed to have forgotten all about their wands, they slowly moved them out of sight, though still in their hands. _He was never very smart,_ Harry thought, critiquing Crabbe's poor showing. He was irrational, allowing his emotions to get the better of him. For a split second he wondered how long he had been holding on to this hate and why he had allowed it to consume him.

A few feet away Ron was wondering the same thing but he was also drawing the similarity between Malfoy's henchman and himself, the sidekick to the Boy Who Lived. Both had resented their partners, both had let the jealously and anger take a hold of their lives. _But,_ Ron thought. _Where he allowed his hate to fester, mine was resolved._ And ironically, Crabbe was part of the reason why his resentment of Harry was resolved in the first place. He looked over the shuddering man with a critical eye. _You obviously had no such luck._ For a moment, Ron allowed him to feel something other than disgust for the man he probably would have become himself if things had been the way they hadn't happened the way it had happened.

Smirking, Crabbe turned back and rapped the iron cast door a few times. The three of them froze, anticipating what is it was that was about to occur, each of their minds telling to act now, that this would be their last chance before they were truly well captured. But no matter what their minds were telling them, they could not come up with any sort of defense or offense that wouldn't get them in more trouble or more hindered than they were now. And as much as they hated to submit, there was no way for them to anything. Eloise knew that -- even if she didn't care about Potter and Weasley (which she didn't), she still couldn't risk Draco. _No,_ she shook her head. She couldn't. She glanced at the duo, both of their body's reflecting their inner torment. She knew Potter and Weasley, almost as well as Draco knew them. Potter wouldn't endanger anybody, be it friend or foe. Though at the moment, she wasn't sure of which column she would fall into, she felt fairly safe that she could count on Potter not doing anything rash. Weasley on the other hand...she wasn't as sure about him.

Weasley is a hot-head, arrogant fool. _In many ways,_ she mused. _He's a lot like Draco in the early years._ If she were in any other situation than this, she would laugh. She knew how Draco would react if he heard her comparing him to the Weasel. And she had a sneaking suspicion Weasley would react in the same way.

_But what would he do?_ She stared at the redhead, trying to puzzle him out as if she could separate each of his facets and examine them closely. On one hand Weasley was impetuous, too rash for his own good. On the other, he wasn't a total idiot. At times, he was really not that stupid. If he was aware of the risks and thought them out fully, she was sure he would do the right thing. But the problem with him was that he doesn't think about the risks and the consequences, reacts rather than planning his thoughts out like Draco did. One again, Eloise wished Draco was awake. He would know exactly what to do, whether it was action or to bide their time. 

A man, short and stout, his dark robes, swishing as he appeared in the opened door. 

"Take their wands," Crabbe ordered. "If they give you any trouble, do what ever you want -- just keep them alive." He turned back to the three, smiling at their glaring faces. "Sit tight. And don't worry...you'll be having a special visitor soon." He laughed and ducked out of the cell, laughing as he went.

_A special visitor?_ Harry questioned. He had a bad feeling about that. In his mind, there was only one person whom he could think of that would want to see him. And once HE came here, it would all be over. Years of hard work, of pushing him away and back time and time again would end just like this. And he wouldn't even go out with the supposed bang that everyone wanted. He would die, that he was sure of. And he would die with nothing less than a whimper.

The short man walked in, his gait uneasy. He shuffled over to Eloise, reaching for her wand clenched in her hand. She refused him, pulling away. "Don't do this, Oscar," she warned.

He flinched, but still he tried again to take the wand. "Please Eloise. I have to," he pleaded. "Just give it to me. I promise I'll...I'll put it somewhere safe."

Eloise snorted. "So what if it's safe? It's not as if I could use it when I'm _dead,_" she snarled.

He was taken aback by the menace he heard in her voice. "I'm sorry, Eloise. I really am... But I...I just can't..."

"Save it Oscar," Eloise spat. "If you were really sorry, you would help us out." Eloise moved closer to Oscar, pushing her body up to his. "Please, Oscar. If not for me, do it for Draco." Eloise lifted a hand and placed it on Oscar's cheek, forcing him too look at Draco. "Look at him, Oscar. He's done so much for you -- you _owe_ him."

Oscar yanked himself away. "I own him nothing," he denied, yanking Eloise's wand from her. "Don't try that again Midgen. You'll regret it." He turned to glare at the other two. "That goes for you two too. Hand them over or do I have to get messy?"

Both Weasley and Potter both ignored him, refusing to hand over their wands. Eloise could see Potter's fingers tightening, both hands holding onto the small, thin piece of wood. _Uh oh,_ Eloise thought as she saw Weasley looking to do the same. Her eyes widened as he quickly moved to intercept. Stopping in front of Harry, she laid her hand on the wand. "Don't," she whispered. Angry eyes answered her, but still she managed to pry the wand free from it's owner. "Trust me." She tried to convey her sincerity through her eyes, but then realized what she was doing and stopped. She didn't want to reassure Potter! She moved over to Ron and pulled his wand out of his hands as well after a bit of a tug-of-war. She whirled around. "There," she announced, handing the wands to Oscar. "You will make sure they come to no harm?" she asked, feeling a bit silly as she did so. They were wands but they were _their_ wands. No one but a wizard or witch could understand the bond that existed between the wand and their owner. 

"Of course, Eloise. I know what it means." Oscar gave the wands a pat and left, leaving the door slam with a hollowing thud.

The sheer force that had been holding Eloise up left her and she started to slump. Glancing around, Potter and Weasley didn't look too much better.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Ron burst, not able to hold it in any longer. "Do you know what you just did?"

She blinked in confusion -- almost believable that if Ron wasn't already immensely annoyed with her, he would have laid off a bit. 

"I was doing you a favor," she said levelly. "No need to thank me."

"Thank you?!" Ron nearly screech. "Do you know what you just handed them?!"

"I was saving it."

"Oh! So you do know! How the hell could you just hand it over to that man...just like that? How could you--"

"Get over it Weasley," Midgen interrupted, her voice just showing a hint of annoyance. "I could see Potter over there. You were going to snap it, weren't you?" With her eyes she dared Harry to deny it.

Harry shrugged. So I was going to do it, so what? "Yes, so?"

"So? Do you understand what that would have done?" Midgen asked in surprised. 

"My wand's nearly the identical twin to Voldemort's. They're like brothers -- both equal and both just as powerful. Do you know how long he's been trying to get his hands on my wand? I can't exactly allow that," Harry patiently explained.

"Of course I know!" Midgen hissed. "Stop acting as if I have no idea what has been happening for the past decade -- I probably know more about the last few years better than you do! You really have no clue, do you? There you are, working for the great, old Dumbledore, doing your little _missions_ and your little _stunts_ against our side, never really knowing what's really out there." 

Harry's eyes narrowed. _What is she talking about?_ He couldn't understand where that anger was coming from or why. It was obvious she had something against the two of them and whenever she opened her mouth, she got the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that he wasn't privy to everything. And now, she was practically confirming his suspicions.

"What?" Harry tried, keeping his voice calm so that he would provoke her. "What exactly don't we know?"

Midgen rubbed a hand across her eyes, lifting her head up and for the first time, Harry could see the toll this experience was putting on her. "Everything. Draco has been worked so hard, planned for so long, and you two...You two just waltz right in and ruin everything up!"

"No hold on!" Ron interjected. "_We_ ruin everything? What about you people? You can't even get your loyalties straight! This wasn't our fault -- we were trying to help! You got yourselves into this mess!"

"I never asked for your help!"

"Well obviously someone did or else we wouldn't be here, now would we?" Ron shot right back, his body tense. Midgen was no less. They were literally at each others' throats, both straining to get the upper hand.

"Okay, okay!" Harry yelled, trying to break it up. "Stop it! Both of you!" He pushed in between the two warring bodies, forcefully pushing them away from each other. "This isn't going to do any good if we fight the entire time!"

The two of them glared each other, dimly aware of Harry. 

"Well if the stupid Weasel hadn't started it going about...going about..." she trailed off, her mind failing her for a moment. In all of the commotion, she had forgotten what it was exactly that had started the whole argument in the first place.

"My wand," Harry supplied, a bit gratified. If they thought as hard as they fought, we would be out of here by now.

"Yeah, his wand!" Ron agreed. "What do you think you were doing handing it over in the first place?"

"_I_ was trying to save it from your impulsive partner over there." She jutted her chin out over to Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed. It was one thing to argue with Ron about her supposed stupidity but to insult him... 

"He was going to snap in two," she continued.

"Of course he was! The Dark Lord -- sorry Voldemort," Ron corrected when he saw Harry's sharp look. "Voldemort has been trying to get his hands on Harry's wands for years now. We aren't going to allow it to fall into his hands now. We've gone over this before."

"Yes," Eloise strove. "But if you eliminate Harry's wand, what is powerful enough to counter-act Voldemort's?"

Her ease at saying the Dark Lords name shocked Ron. He knew she was like him -- a pureblood who've been raised in the Wizarding world where the name Voldemort has been shrouded in darkness, where even the mention of his name was avoided.

"Why do you think you've kept it for so long?" Eloise's amusement and disgust was clearly evident in her voice. "You think it's because of your prowess? Please," she scoffed. "Do you know how many times you've come to losing it? Thirty-four times since you've graduated. Just be glad Draco has always been there to get it back or that one of our people have avoided taking it."

_Thirty-four times in nine years?_ Harry thought in disbelief. Though he somewhat believed that Draco could have a part in the fact that his wand had never been successfully stolen, he can't believe he's almost lost it thirty-four times. Even that seems a bit excessive for him. "No," he denied.

"Yes," Eloise affirmed, taking delight in it. "Draco has always gotten it back, had made it a top priority for our people. Rule One: Trust Draco above all else. Rule Two: All information is filtered through Draco. Rule Three: Make sure Potter's wand never makes its way to enemy hands," she rattled off. "The top three rules, number four being if you betray Draco you will not live to regret it."

Why she had thrown that last rule out was unknown, but Harry had his own guesses about that. But it surprised him that Malfoy would place such a high value on his wand. He had always thought about how it had to stay out of Voldemort's hands at all costs -- Malfoy thought about how it need to stay out of Voldemort's hands and how it need to stay in Harry's hands at all costs. _Who'd ever thought Malfoy would think ahead like that?_ He'd come a long way from the rash boy he had gone to school with.

"See?" Eloise pointed out, what exactly he wasn't sure. She moved slowly towards him and for a moment considered moving back until he realized she was moving closer to Malfoy, not him. She sank to her haunches, hunching over his body. She ran a hair through the red streaked hair and her hands got tangled in the blood matted strands. Regretfully, she pulled her hand out, settling for petting the top of Malfoy's head. "You didn't know that. You don't know just how many things Draco has done to make _your_ lives easier, to make sure you were safe." She sniffed and pulled her hand back. Rising, she faced the other two men. "For some reason, he's always thought that you," She was talking to Potter. "and you," This time to Weasley. "were key to the fall of the Dark Lord. Why, I don't know. If you ask me, _he's_," She nodded to the prone form of Malfoy. "done more for the Light than you two have."

At the mention of how they didn't deserve to be thought of as important to the defeat of the Dark Lord, Harry could see Ron's fists clenching again as his eyes flashed. No, he shook his head. Let it go.

Ron backed down a bit but Harry could see he was not pleased with the prospect of having to retreat. But Eloise didn't even notice, her eyes only on the barely moving chest of her fallen leader.

* * *

"Hmm..." Hermione voiced absent-mindedly as she read over the scrolls that contain the latest Intel on Death Eater movement in the past year.

Slowly, Voldemort had been slowly concentrating less and less in European Wizarding Communities, branching outward and involving foreigners more and more. The inclusion of the Yanks only served to prove the point. Voldemort in the past had been a British problem, but it seemed as if he was becoming more and more aggressive and is widening his spheres of influence.

She knew this already; had read the reports like everybody else of Dark Lord activities, though she was more informed than the average witch.

_This is not good... not good at all_, Hermione thought. She could almost hear her analysts telling her what she already knew. Voldemort is a threat, even more so than two decades ago when he had first came into power. At least back then he had concentrated his attacks on British Muggles and muggle-borns with the occasional French or German. Now his influence could be found in every single corner of the globe to Adelaide Australia to Montreal Canada, in Russia and in the African Continent. He'd even involved the Asiatic Wizards whom had been known in the past to not interfere in Western Wizarding issues, thinking they were superior to that sort of behaviors. God only knew how they could not afford to lose the Japanese nor the Chinese in this fight.

And as much Hermione liked the idea of Wizarding nations and Wizarding people around the world bonding together against a common evil, reality kept on interfering. What had been a purely British defense against the Dark Lord, they now had American wizards and witches meddling with their operations and affairs, demanding to be included in every little thing. _As if we didn't have enough. Now we have to baby-sit hot-head Americans who think they know everything,_ Hermione thought in a huff, thinking of one brash American in particular. John Braxton, the American wizard who was, she supposed, her counterpart. They've crossed lines a bit too often for her likes and she much as she's tried, she'd never been able to figure out the extent of the information he possessed or the exact preemptive measures as he called them he had staged. It did give her some satisfaction that she knew to an almost certainty that she knew more about his operation than he know about hers.

There were some coordinating being done, a few joint operations -- the one in Singapore being one -- but it wasn't through her division. Diplomatic Relations she believed, was apart of the Ministry, but she had very little to do with them. As far as she was concerned, if they stay out of her pond, she won't dry up theirs,. Hermione cracked a smile at the metaphor. It was just like something Draco would say. _I think I've been spending too much time with him._

Hermione's face twisted as she remembered Draco and the danger her husband and best friend was in because of him. And for a moment she regretted ever getting into this business, regretted being in a position where was not oblivious to her husband's actions, even though he tried so hard to keep his work away from their lives.

She and Ron had gotten together in the sixth year at Hogwarts -- something everyone had delight in telling them that they were surprised they didn't get together sooner, that it was obvious that they were meant to be together. In seventh year, they had discussed their plans. After the rising of Voldemort in the fourth year, he'd become more and more bold with his annual attack of Harry, each time killing more and more innocents, causing more damage. The whole Wizarding community in Great Britain was disrupted -- they were plunged in another era of darkness, of fear for even walking out late at night. They were being terrorized daily and without proper guidance, they froze. No one knew what to do. They had The Boy Who Lived to rely on, but he was still a student still at Hogwarts. They had the Gregon, but he was only stories, false hope that no one could validate. Dumbledore did his best, organizing his people and his work the way they could work outside of the official Ministry, but it wasn't enough. The Ministry was dying, its Minister of Magic corrupted. _Thank God Fudge was killed early on,_ Hermione thanked, thinking of that accident that had befallen the old Minister. But then again, it wasn't exactly an accident. After all, who would be stupid enough to use cadaver berries in a simple relaxation potion? Everyone knew that the acid in the berries would react to the chamomile, creating a potentially lethal potion. 

They, they being those at the Ministry who investigated the unusual death, had attributed it to Fudge's old age, that he was finally becoming senile -- it had been the widely accepted response.

None the less, Fudge's death was probably for the best. It had opened everything up. Though Voldemort had wanted to move Lucius Malfoy into the position of Minister, but it had been foolhardy at best. No one -- no matter how much money Malfoy flung around -- would elect that Death Eater to the highest position in the land; Dumbledore would have made sure of that if things had not ended the way it did.

Thinking back, she could remember when Malfoy had been trying to get elected, remembered how Draco had gloated about how he was going to be the son of a Minister of Magic, especially of a Minister who was one of the most powerful Wizarding nations in the world. And she could remember the fight that resulted from Draco over doing things, as he often did back then. Draco had gone too far, spreading the rumors that his father was as good as elected and the first thing he would do was to get rid of those Mudbloods and those Mudlovers and demote that Muggle-loving Weasel. She could remember the hate she had felt, remembered her confusion at how someone could say something like that, but it wasn't she who was most hurt by it.

Like usual, Ron took offense. The shade of red he had turned rivaled his hair, his eyes flared with passion -- she had never seen Ron look like that before. It was as if he was possessed by the Imperius Curse. 

It took four professors to disband them at the end, each supporting a number of wounds and bruises. Ron had ended up with three bruised ribs and a busted lip while Malfoy came out with only a sprained wrist and a black eye. The injuries were fixed easily enough by Madam Pomfrey, but only after they had been left to the pain for a few days, hoped that if the boys had felt the consequences of their actions to help deter them from further fighting.

And it turned out that it was all for naught. Less than a two weeks later, Malfoy pulled out of election and a witch named Zerina Vanier, an avid and dedicated Light supporter. 

Of course Draco sulked for weeks, complaining about how a stupid Mudlover could get the job and how if his father had stayed in the race, they would never have elected the witch in the first place.

Ron however, was on cloud nine when he heard Malfoy dropped out. He made no attempt not to rub Draco's face in the fact that his father ran like a coward, knowing that Vanier would beat him any day. Draco could only glare and stay out of the way. At the time Hermione thought it was fitting, that it was indeed nice to see the pompous, spoiled Malfoy taken down a peg or two and that Ms. Vanier won was just an added bonus.

Thinking back, she now realized that during that time, Draco was already the Grey Dragon and had been for two years. And his hate of his father was not foreign to her so the disappointment and the brooding he had done when his father mysteriously, for no reason at all, pull out of the race must have been an act. It was surprising to think back on those little tidbits of memory and coupled with the things she knew now, look back on them on an entirely new light. 

But she supposed, it was that whole incident that really started her journey on this path that she was on now. After Vanier was elected, everything seemed to have changed. Vanier was a miracle worker. With her at the reins things suddenly began to look up. Almost immediately after she had gotten the position, she started working on returning the Ministry to the way it used to be in the past. It was she who trusted Dumbledore enough to give him the resources to do his own thing and it was she who reformed the different departments under her. She had even convinced Arthur Weasley into taking a much more prestigious, more active role in the Ministry. 

It was also Vanier who offered Hermione the job so many years ago when she was just getting out of seventh year. But she hadn't seriously considered it -- she had assumed she would be where ever Ron and Harry were, but obviously what she had assumed wasn't what had happened based on where she was now.

It was their first major fight -- her desire to be with her friends and lover versus Ron's desire to keep her safe and out of harm, as if she was a china doll to be taken out when he wanted to play with her and them put on a high shelf later on, safe from prying hands. And it didn't help that Harry somewhat agreed with Ron. To her, it seemed as if he was siding against her but she truly understood that Harry wanted her safe because she was his friend. 

_To think I had put such a fuss,_ she thought, looking back. But she didn't regret any of her decisions. She had done a lot of good in her position, a lot of good which is more than some can say and she was happy with her life. _Well, not exactly,_ she amended, thinking of Ron and Harry and Draco again. But she had hope and when in a war that was mostly hopeless, it was good to have hope.

* * *

Hermione looked up from the scrolls, her eyes blurring and tearing up on her. "Mistia?" she called out softly, hoping she haven't had left already. It was pretty late, but Dumbledore's secretary practically lived in the headquarters. Many people did.

It took a few moments, but her blond head bobbed through the opening of her door. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Do you have the scroll for the month of April 2006?"

Mistia furrowed her forehead as she tried to recall the scroll. "Isn't it with you? I remember giving you all the scrolls from 2002 and on..."

Hermione looked through her stack of scrolls again, trying to make sure she didn't over look it. "No... I've got every one of them, except that." She gave Mistia a beseeching look. "Could you please find it for me?"

She was already on her way out. "Of course, I'll be right back."

Hermione nodded her approval and devoted her attention back to the scrolls. Her eyes felt lazy, threatening to droop but as they started to close, she would force them back open though they protested. It seemed as if sleep was the only thing her eyes wanted to do at the moment, but she couldn't, not when Ron was... Besides, she couldn't fall asleep and then wake up to find herself alone. And there was work to be done. Work...

"Ms. Granger?"

Hermione's head shot up, the soft, but firm voice shaking her awake. "Huh?" she said groggily, half in reaction.

Demurred, Mistia replied, "I have the scroll you wanted," with the object in question held up in her hand.

"What? Oh, right, the scroll," Hermione thought, trying to clear the fog in her head. She raised her hands and rubbed at her fuliginous eyes. 

"If you don't mind me saying so, ma'am. You should be at home, resting," Mistia commented as she walked into the office to hand the scroll to Hermione.

"Home?"

"Yes. Whatever work you have _can_ wait until tomorrow and at least them you can work on them with a clear mind." Mistia held out the scroll, concern written on her eyes.

Hermione shook her head, shook the notion of going home off. She couldn't go home. "I'm fine," she insisted, but she couldn't even convince herself that she was. "Don't worry about me." She took the scroll out of Mistia's outstretched hands and immediately started to unfurl it, trying to ignore the pitying eyes from the secretary. She didn't need that, not even from a friend who meant well.

Mistia lingered for a moment; she could feel her eyes on her hunched over body and tried to make herself concentrate on the scroll in front of her. She was tense and body rigid. She reread over the line she had been reading a moment before, but still she couldn't comprehend it. She knew the words and recognized them but when put together, they made no sense, passing easily through her. 

Finally when she heard Mistia's quiet steps away from the office, she relaxed. Momentarily forgetting the scroll, she leaned back into her chair. She stretched, her aching muscles really feeling the brunt of over an hour of sitting in one place. She stayed like that for a while, trying to forget she had a care in the world, but less worries. But she couldn't put off her work for too long -- she never could. She reached for the scroll again, this time determined to read it through and actually understand it. From the reports she had already skimmed through, nothing of interest popped up at her, and most likely this one would be no different, but still she couldn't just dismiss it. The Death Eaters were planning something; it was her job to figure out what that was.

A quick look told her that the scroll was penned by a Erwin Maxwell. I think I know him, Hermione mused, her mind conjuring this tall, prim man in dark robes. _Is he the one who made the arrest of Samuel Parkinson? Pansy's father? Or was he the one who exposed Mary Ellen Walthorp of Liverpool?_ Though she couldn't really remember all to well, she still felt she had met the man once, maybe just in passing, but definitely had met.

She skimmed through the text, trying to pick out specific days and points that would be of interest later. 

_****_

April 3, 2006

Several well-known supporters of You-Know-Who have disappeared, each for two weeks at a time every month and then returning to their lives. They would disappear to a different place each month: Switzerland, Belgium, France, the Netherlands, never the same country in a row and never through the same entry point. Unfortunately we lost them each time they would enter a country and are unable to determine which cities they've gone to.

Now that was odd... Death Eaters, generally were habitual creatures. It was so that if anyone were to be observing them, they would be not suspect if they did something out of character. Most of the time, they would incorporate their Death Eater duties along with their regular routine.

_****_

April 6, 2006

Grant Culthers sighting in Moscow, Russia in route to the Ukraine.

Why would Culthers be in Russia? Hermione wondered. Grant Culthers was a wealthy businessman and recently in the last few years, a high rising Death Eater.

**__**

April 7, 2006

Culthers in Ukraine, arrives in L'viv. Lost trail half-past twelve.

****

April 9, 2006

Still no sign of Culthers.

Martin Twell and Cynthia Sexton apprehend documents from suspected Death Eater Fidela Sanchez. See Item 4586ST in Section GW749. Unable to understand significance of documents, most likely nothing of interest.

Making note of the item and the section, Hermione told herself to check the documents later. Maxwell might not find them of any interest, but she would feel better checking them out for herself.

_****_

April 12, 2006

Rumor Culthers has left the Ukraine. Can not verify.

****

April 13, 2006

Culthers has indeed left the Ukraine. Spotted at home in Distington, England. Purpose in Ukraine: Undefined.

Hermione yawn and she rubbed her face with, trying to bring back some life into her weary mind. The month of April was no help. She had been hoping that it would help her see things in perspective, but it didn't. In fact, it seemed just as useless and if she was honest with herself, just as boring. It was the basic sly Death Eater activity that had always perplexed them. So what if Culthers was in Russia or for a week? Or in the Ukraine for that matter? What was in Russia and the Ukraine? The Ministries of Magic or their like counterparts there weren't that involved as of late in world politics. Even the turbulent Muggle governments there were quiet for the past few years ever since the joint energy conservation and alternative means of electricity treaty (JECAME Treaty) was signed.

Stretching, she tried to make herself comfortable. One look at the trusty, old muggle, Magic powered clock told her the time was 3 A.M. _It is still early yet,_ she thought, recalling all the times she had put in all-nighters that had lasted until dawn. Of course, never in the presence of Ron -- always when he was away on a mission. But when he was at home, she would always be home by 7 P.M. at the latest -- a typical bureaucratic lifestyle that was expected of her. 

And Ron thought she was safe. That was the most important part. After all the fuss he made just before graduation, keeping him happy was all she'd ever wanted. And if she was enjoying her job that made a contribution to the fight against Voldemort, all the better. 

Though it did bother her a bit that she had been willfully omitting the truth about her work to her husband, her best friend and love of her life for the past nine years. _Actually,_ she thought, chewing the bottom of her lip. _It bothers me a lot more than just a bit._

She was tired of it; tired of having to make excuses and lies that weren't fully lies. She was tired of the half-truths, from both sides of them. They were getting no where when each was avoiding the subjects the defined their lives. She can't even remember the last time she had spoke honestly about her work or when Ron had divulged what he did the safety of the night and away from her eyes. They were practically strangers at home. That wasn't what they had both wanted when they had gotten married five years ago. Something had to change.

_When he gets home, I'm telling him,_ she resolved. It was the only thing she could think of that would work. This was finally it. She was finally going to tell Ron what she did for the Ministry, laying it on the line and hopefully when he hears what she had to say, he would accept her decisions. Because if he didn't, she didn't know what to do.

* * *

Ron sat, crouching as he leaned onto the left wall, his eyes glaring at the woman who was sitting on the other wall glaring at him right back. They had fallen into a uneasy silence of sorts, each content on trying to transmute their feelings of the other through their eyes. Harry was still by the body of Malfoy, but now he was rather sitting than crouching. His folded figure, looming over the body, reminded Ron of one of those muggle stone statues he had seen with Hermione of their honeymoon, standing guard like the ever mindful watchman.

It confused him to see Harry so damn _considerate_ of Malfoy. It wasn't supposed to be like that -- it was _never_ like that before. Things between the pair had intensified up to seventh year, the feelings of animosity only grew after they had graduated and stories of the atrocities Malfoy had committed. It had been a beautiful thing -- to hear his best friend condemn the man that he had hated throughout his life, ever since the beginning of first year when Malfoy had snubbed his family.

But ever since Dumbledore had told the both of them of Malfoy's little side-job, Harry's opinion of the man had started to change. He could tell; he was his best friend after all. Like now, sitting right next to him, essentially protecting and shielding the man whom papers had called the Malicious Malfoy, the Murderous Butcher and more. If that wasn't a sign of changed emotions towards the man, what was?

And Midgen's blind loyalty of Malfoy didn't help either. In some ways she reminded of him of his Hermione, always knowing the right answer to everything, always have to be right and the ability to argue her point to the death even though Ron knew he was right inside. 

So now they were all trapped. Malfoy was still out of things, not a stir out of him since they had been here. Maybe it was better that Malfoy wasn't awake. If he were to come back to the land of the living, he should be at the age of a twelve year old. He remembered how Malfoy was when he was twelve and wasn't in rapture to meet the little snot again. He was an annoying, little pest, there was no denying it. _He was a terror that had later matured into a monst--_ He suddenly realized that he couldn't say that. Monster, was what he had planned to say, but knowing what he knew now about the Grey Dragon and Draco Malfoy, it wouldn't fit as neatly as it did before.

Now there was a contradiction if he's ever heard one. Malfoy not a cold, unrelenting monster. Ask any good witch or wizard, including he and Harry only a few days ago and they would tell you that Malfoy and the words cold and heartless would fit together like jam and scones. They were made for each other.

And he hated it. Hated that all of his preconceived notions had to be messed up by Malfoy. It was just like him to do something like this. _If he wasn't unconscious with large chunks of his memory missing at the moment, I bet he would be laughing his head off at me._ He could just hear the taunts: _"How'd you like that Weasel? Everything you've ever thought about me was wrong. How does it feel to be so incorrect about a person and still want to cling to the past?"_ He wouldn't put it past him to get some perverted sense of joy out of his dilemma. 

It just wasn't right. He kept going over all the things he knew about the man that he thought was Draco Malfoy and the things he knew about the Gregon. How could the man who murdered thousands, or had organized the killing and persecution of innocent men and women be the same person that he revered for saving countless lives, foiling so many plots by the Dark Lord to gain some sort of edge over the Light? It was unbelievable and absolutely irreconcilable. 

Ron dropped his head into his hands. _God, I don't want to deal with this._ It was just too much to think about. He didn't know what to think any more. Bad was good -- what was the world coming too? All of a sudden, he was hit with an empty feeling he had never felt before. Ron tried to ignore it, lifting his head to look up around the sparsely lit cell.

Midgen wasn't glaring at him any more, rather she too seemed to have her thoughts occupied by whatever it was she was thinking about.

Her being exposed was never part of the plan and he could see no other alternative other than to take her with them. As much as he was loathe to admit it, it was their only option. No doubt Midgen knew it too and wasn't exactly ecstatic with idea of having to leave her post, unmasked.

Harry was most likely trying to think of a way out of the place. How, without their wands and being tens of feet underground, he didn't know, but knowing Harry, he was thinking of something.

He just hoped, whatever it was, would be soon. If he remembered correctly, they were on their fifth day of the potion's length. They would only have two more full days before Malfoy would remember again, if they couldn't get out before that, You-Know-Who's follows could most likely be able to get the information that he needed out of the man and then they would all be screwed.

* * *

He had been staring at him for a while now. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off the bloodied man in front of him. There was something about the way the lines on his face softened or how peaceful he looked, his chest rising and falling evenly. Even the way his reddened hair, matted on his head looked adorable, albeit a bit sickening. And the fact that he knew what sort of horrors this man had done in the past, _didn't seem bother him as much as it did before._ And the fact that that didn't bother him as much bothered him the most. Malfoy was bad. Gregon is good. Malfoy is the Gregon. So by logic, Malfoy is good. But Malfoy was bad. He'd established that first thing, didn't he?

And he couldn't just sit here -- he had people depending on him. Dumbledore, Ron, Midgen, _Malfoy._ He needed a way out, he needed something to do. He needed to plan. 

"Are we just going to sit here all night?" Ron voice cut through, echoing his thoughts.

"I don't suppose you've got an idea, Weasley?" Midgen rejoined, her voice sarcastic.

"I don't see you with anything," he shot back, just as quickly.

Harry lifted his weary head up. "How many ways are there to get out of here?"

Midgen nodded her head towards the door. "You're looking at it Potter." 

"The only way?" Harry asked, a feeling of futility permeating his every being.

She nodded. "As far as I know and I know this island pretty well. I've been here for years. The only way out of this dungeon cell is to go out that door, up the stairs we just came up from and out one of the doors. To the Manor, there's about six different exits out. Off the island, you have to go by boat. At least the only way you can get off this island," she added as an after thought.

"What do you mean _you_? You're in this too, or did you forget?" Ron pointed out. Midgen shot an irritated glare at him and he smirked right back.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, Midgen was already responding.

"You and me, as a _we_? You've got to be joking. I wouldn't even be in this position if it were for you and the almighty Potter butting into _my_ affairs!"

"Hey!" Potter cried out, indignant. "I've had about enough of you--"

"Of what?" Midgen interrupted, getting to her feet. Seeing her rise, both Ron and Harry did the same, trying to gain some equal footing. They met somewhere around the middle, Harry and Ron on one side of Malfoy's body, Midgen on the other. "Of saying the truth, Potter? Tell you don't revel in the fact that you're the Boy Who Lived! Tell me you don't like having the people look up to you!"

"I don't!" Harry roared. "Do you think it's easy having all everybody depend on you? Look to you for miracles and solutions you don't have? And here I am, always alone, always losing people... Do you know that feels? I hadn't even a friend until I was eleven!"

"Poor ol' Potter," Midgen mocked. "With his sad sob story and his trusty Weasel and Mudblood. You could have just walked away, but you stayed."

"Shut up!" Ron said through gritted teeth.

"What?" she asked, sounding concerned and innocent-eyed. "Don't like me talking about your Mudblood wife?"

"Shut up!" Ron yelled, leaping on her. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

Midgen easily moved away, ducking from Ron's hands while Harry reached for his friend in a vain attempt to stop him. He wrapped his arms around Ron's body, stopping him from getting out of his embrace and killing the other woman. 

"Stop this!" Harry hissed, tightening his hold on his friend. "This is not help us! We have to get out of here and we have to find out." He turned his head to speak into his Ron's ear. "I'm going to let you go. Don't do any more trouble." He let go of Ron and stepped away. Ron stiffened and smoothed out his robe, all the while glaring at Midgen, who was looking away nonchalantly which infuriated him even more.

A soft moan below them turned their heads. There on the ground, Malfoy's once straight body was curling into fetal position. Harry's eyes widened as he realized what was happening. Malfoy groaned again and instantly they rushed to his side.

Midgen kneeled on one side, Harry on the there other with Ron flanking him. She reached out to steady and soothe the man. 

"Draco?" she said softly. "Are you okay?"

Malfoy's body turned again, but then stilled. Moments passed before anything happened. But then, his eyes started to flutter, his eyelashes slowly rising as he took in his surroundings.

When Harry could see into his eyes, he felt his breath catch as he stopped breathing. What he saw was unexpected and was something he thought he would never see in the eyes of Draco Malfoy. In the silvery eyes of his former adversary was the deepest fear and absolute terror he had ever seen.

* * *

A/N: I am so sorry (but I always am) for taking so long with this chapter. I have really don't have time to write all that much now, with work and school and finals and all that sort of stuff. That combined with a lack of interest to actually spend the free time I do have writing and with a new betaing job I'm doing for a fellow H/D shipper has me taking so long to get this out. Go read it by the way. It's by Serafitus and it's called The Shining Prince. A great peace of work into the insight of Draco Malfoy and an interesting way of how Harry and Draco get together and how their relationship works.

I have to face it. It's going to take a while to get every chapter out, at least until the summer. Hopefully with free time coming up (that is if I don't take a nice long vacation during the summer) I'll be able to get the next few chapters out a lot sooner than the rest.

ailsinjiin: I am so sorry! I didn't have writers block but a lack of time to write. So sorry! And lol for the image you painted of me -- gave me a laugh! And I am so happy that you actually reviewed a few times -- totally makes my day! No one has ever been as considerate as you are to me. :)

Personally, I hate Ron, so that's why there's so much Ron bashing in this story. Hermione, in my opinion, is good when she's not paired with Harry. When she is, look out because I really would want to kill her off.

Keeping him in character is something I like to do. He's so good to have as a punching bag. 

SilverWolf: Oh, I don't mind rambling! I ramble way too often for me to judge a fellow rambler. Thanks so much for the review. I look forward to your hauntings. 

Tionne: It's clearing up, no? Hopefully, all the unclear items will be cleared up by the stories end. Well, my pen pal's name's Eija, and I think she's a HP fan but I doubt she has any knowledge of slash or anything about it. I met her through the net, and she's my age. 

Normal Girl: Thanks! I so apprieciate you taking the time to review! I love hearing from readers of mine! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

MOI: Thank you, thank you, thank you! Eloise wasn't exactly all my idea -- I wanted Pansy too, but she was a bit too obvious as my friend Kara said. So she suggested Eloise and the rest was history. Thank you for reviewing, even though your comp was working against you. Many would have just given up and not done anything at all. That you kept at it, touches me deeply.

Soul Sister: I'm so glad you like it! Eloise, seems to be a good addition to the plot, based on the other people's reactions.

Wildfire Friendship: He's waking up... And Draco's twelve. :) Let's see if I can do endearing... But ya gotta remember. Even though this is Draco after he's been tortured, he is still a twelve year old and we remember how a twelve year old Draco was like...

Veefa: Hope this helps! Thank you so much for reviewing! 

I am so glad Eloise didn't come off too Mary Sueish, but I think after this one, she's a bit more Mary Sueish than she was in the last chapter, no?

Anyway, thanks always to Red Dragons Order for betaing (read her stories, they're great!) and for Kara for encouragement.

Hopefully I'll see you all soon.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The blond-haired man quickly scrambled to an upright position, fumbling over long robes as he tried to get a vantage point where he wasn't the one who was hindered.

Moving away from the three who seemed to loom closer and closer to him, he nearly tripped the last few feet to the opposite side of the cell. Granted, there wasn't a lot of room for him to go, but being as far as he could away from the three strangers made him feel slightly more at ease.

He didn't recognize the three, the two men and the woman. Vaguely, at the back of his mind he thought he had seen the woman once before, a comforting hand on his face when all the surrounded him was darkness, a soothing voice telling him to have hope that relief was coming, that his suffering was almost at an end. He held onto to that, let the words comfort him when all he could feel was the burning and the searing pain being inflicted on his body, using them to guide him, to keep him from slipping into insanity.

"W-who," he wheezed as he tried to breathe, "Who are y-you?"

They were unlike all those he had encountered in his miserable stay at...where ever this was that he was being held at. No animosity, no hate, no dark thoughts that he could just see gleaming in their eyes as they looked at him speculatively. For once he could not feel the waves of anticipation rolling of his captors as they envisioned what they could do to him.

But that didn't stop him from being fearful.

He looked upon the three with wary eyes, ready to escape any harm they might wish to wreak on him, knowing fully well that in such a small space and being outnumbered as he was, he would have nowhere to run.

He watched them as they slowly straightened, careful not to move too suddenly. He felt pleased that they were taking him in consideration but he couldn't allow himself to believe that they were sincere. It had been days since he'd arrive here and not once had he responded to their questions. And they had tried. They tried. But they couldn't get anything but screams and yells and howls of pain from him. Nothing else. Perhaps they had finally realized he wasn't going to tell them a thing and decided a new approach. Either way, he wasn't going to give up. If he had lasted this long, he'd last longer. He was determined not to show any sort of weakness. It was like his father said, _"A Malfoy never shows any sign of weakness that another can exploit."_

"We're not here to hurt you; we're friends," the black-haired one volunteered as all three of them together made their way closer to him. Draco's eyes widened, looking at them and down on the ground as the space between them grew shorter.

Before he could stop it, a snort of disbelief had slipped out. _Right,_ he thought. They were getting uncomfortably close and he felt his chest starting to heave. He had to do something, now, before he burst. He held his unsteady arms out to stop them. "Th-that's close e-enough, th-thank y-you."

They stopped and he felt his the tightness on his heart subside. He sighed. "N-now," he began again, cursing his stutter that had been gracing his speech for the last few days. "Now, w-who are y-you?"

"Like he said, we're friends," the red-head answered, curling his lips at the word _friends_.

Draco looked at the man with a new light. From the tone of his voice, it sounded like the red-head didn't like him, but he couldn't remember meeting a man like him. "N-names?"

The woman stepped forward a bit before stopping only a few feet away and he felt himself relax. She was comforting, he could feel it.

"I'm Eloise, this is Harry and that's Ron," she replied, her voice soft.

Draco nodded, acknowledging it. He noticed she had deliberately left out their last names, but that didn't matter too much. He was sure he'll find out who they were exactly when all this was over.

He didn't know what was going on; no one would speak to him, but that was usually typical, from what he had heard his father say before...

_His father..._

Suddenly, the burst of strength that had come to him after awakening, the one that had given him the energy and the courage to move away from those people whom he'd had no reason to trust, left him as those two words passed through his head.

_His father._

Draco half-fell, half-leaned on the wall behind him, sliding downwards as he no longer had the will to stand up any longer. It was just as well -- his legs didn't feel as if they could hold him for a second more.

He was too lost in his own thoughts to even care as Harry and Eloise rushed over to him.

_His father._

My father.

He couldn't seem to wrap his mind over those two words. His father. _My father._ He should have stopped this, he should have, would have, why didn't he? It had lasted too long, too long. They were never supposed to be this long -- four days at the most. _Is that what he said?_ Draco questioned, distinctly remembering the silky voice of his father telling him that this day would come and that it wouldn't last too long. 

But he was sure it had been longer than four days. It was hard to judge time in his closed off cell, with no walls and no breaks of daylight lighting the space. The only light was from a torch, off to the side, burning at all hours of the day and night. But it had never bothered him before. _I've never had the chance to think about it._

This had been the first time since he had been here that he had been conscious, well and left alone. Usually he would alternate in between being unconscious and being tortured. _Tortured,_ he thought in disgust. He hated to admit he was being tortured. He the only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, heir to one of the oldest and wealthiest Wizarding families in _the world,_ much less England. They had power, prestige, they do not get _tortured._

And his father, whom he trusted not to hurt him too much (he was his son, his _only_ son, after all), wasn't there. He had screamed for him, yelled, cried, and _begged_ when a Malfoy specifically doesn't beg and he didn't come. That was unforgivable. 

And that man that had looked an awfully a lot like Vin... He had been there, always when he was awake. The one who was always asking him questions, over and over again, even when most of the time all he would do was stay silent. His voice, his questions would run through his head, long after he had succumbed to the pain. And even if he had wanted to answer, or could for that matter, he wouldn't be able to. All they were about were places he'd never heard of, people he'd never met, events that he hadn't experienced. There were a few familiarities in the questions... Potter for one, that idiot Weasel and his bushy-haired Mudblood friend... His lips twisted in distaste. _God, how much I hate those three..._ he thought in cold anger. 

If there was anybody in the world he could think of to channel it was those three. The wondrous Boy Who Lived whom everyone doted over, the stupid, poor Weasel whom said Boy Who Lived would rather be friends with than Draco Malfoy, a boy who's family was practically infinitely richer than the Weasley's and a Muggle born girl who should be in all aspects, lacking, but still manage to get the top scores on exams and assignments. Thinking of those three friends really makes him think of how life was so unfair. 

Draco looked up to the concerned eyes of Harry and Eloise. He looked past them to the man called Ron and stared at him. He, Draco was slightly intrigued by. Ron clearly didn't like him, why he wasn't sure. _But,_ he thought with the sight of a new challenge showing itself, _I bet it'll fun trying to find out why he hates me..._

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he snapped, pushing away at the arms coming at him and feeling a bit claustrophobic. He bit his lip, trying to control the panic. Now that his mind was off his miserable father and he was quite aware of the people crowding him, he could fully feel the anxiety. He struggled onto his feet, trying to get away. His arms and legs were awkward on his body, larger and longer than he'd known and he slipped a bit until he was down to all fours and was crawling away from Harry and Eloise with Ron looking on with a half grin.

He stopped and turned around when he felt he was suitably far enough away and moved to a sitting position. "J-just s-stay away from m-me and I-I'll be f-fine."

He calmed down, breathing in and out in deep breaths, feeling a bit more relaxed as he felt his heart stop trying to jump out of his chest. "Y-you w-weren't s-sent by my fa-father, w-were y-you?" he asked quietly, afraid of the answer and yet, needed to know it.

"No," Harry, his clear and unwavering voice confirming his fears. 

Draco nodded, accepting the truth, but his body was still numb and not fully comprehending what that meant. "And...and th-this is not a t-test?"

A flash of confusion marred the man's face, before he would answer. "No," he drew out. "At least not that I know of."

Again he nodded, a reflex action mostly. He exhaled. "No, I didn't think so..." He brought his knees up, holding them close with his arms. He lowered his head and closed his eyes, trying to concentrated on the information given.

_This wasn't a test._

My father isn't really here. 

I'm being held captive.

And I don't know who I'm being held captive by.

He raised his head, looking at Ron, Harry and Eloise, who were staring at him, but at the same time, trying not to show that they were blatantly staring at him. 

_I'm in a cell with three people I can't trust._

Yet.

He unfurled his arms from his legs, lifting his hands until they were at eye level. He closed his eyes again, hoping that when he opened them again, everything would be the same as they were before. He opened them again, the same large palm, long, thin fingers staring at him in front of his face instead of his smaller hand, the one he recognized as being _his_.

Furiously, he blinked away the wetness around his eyes as he looked down on his hunched body, longer, larger, what else can he say about it? It wasn't his body that he was residing in. _This isn't mine._

He clenched his hands and lowered them, raising his head to meet the eyes of Harry. Speaking slowly and concentration on his words so his stutter wouldn't impede his seriousness, he said, "What have you done t-to m-me?" Annoyed that he had gotten so close, but lost it at the end, Draco sprung up onto his feet and turned away in what he hoped would be interpreted as frustration.

He quickly wiped at his eyes just once. His father always said, _"A Malfoy never cries."_ He couldn't, he wouldn't cry in front of them. When he felt he was presentable again, he turned around again, his angry eyes demanding answers.

Harry lifted his arms to show that he wasn't a threat. "We haven't done anything to you."

He wrapped his arms around his body, hugging them close. "Oh, I th-think I'm not going t-to b-believe you on th-that. I mean, look-k at me!" He gestured to his body. "Th-this isn't m-mine!" he exclaimed, his voice rose as his panic shoved itself to the forefront.

"Yes it is," Eloise stressed as she pushed closer. She stopped in front of Draco, her hands on either sides of his face as she leaned in close. As much as he felt she was a comfort, she was _too bloody close!_ He fought to control the gut reaction to wrench himself out of her hold and get as far away as he can from the woman. "You just have to trust us, okay?"

After hearing her words, he did wrench himself away. "Trust?" his voice sounded caustic, even to him. "You ex-expect me to t-trust the lot of you? For-forgive me if I don't _t-trust_ you," he sneered.

Ron smiled condescendingly. "Now there's the Malfoy I know." He looked Malfoy up and down. "You really don't know what's going on, do you?"

Draco stilled, the stupidity of a man Ron's age hitting him. "W-would I ask if I didn't?" he asked coldly, deciding he didn't like Ron very much.

And he even had the audacity to shrug as if it never occurred to him. "I don't know, you might. It would be just like you."

"J-just l-like m-me?" he stammered. _Is there something I'm not getting?_ As far as he knew, he had never met anyone like Ron. With the exception of... 

_Weasley._

He looked up and down the figure of Ron. The dark robes were of quality that was above the Weasely family, but then there were the telltale red hair, the freckles he had seen when the man had leaned close earlier, traits would have screamed a Weasel had he been actually paying attention to the man and not trying to get away from him.

"Y-you w-wouldn't be related t-to Ronald W-weasely, w-would you? F-first year H-hogwarts?" Draco questioned, a sneaking suspicion creeping up on him.

Ron grinned evilly, causing him to pause. "Oh you might say that."

"No! Don't!" Eloise snapped, instantly at Ron's side, but was too late.

"I _am_ Ronald Weasley."

* * *

"Oww!" Ron cried out as Eloise hand met his arm. He brought a hand to the sore spot, massaging it as he glared at Eloise.

"You idiot!" she hissed, her eyes dark.

Harry watched the exchange with mild amusement. Sometimes, the interaction between Midgen and Ron was almost comical, a bit like two people who loved to hate the other. Come to think of it, it was a bit like Ron and Hermione in the early beginnings of their friendship...only magnified tenfold. And with Midgen and Ron, there was always a chance that they might actually kill each other. Literally.

Which was why Harry kept an eye on both of them, making sure that both of them don't end up doing something that all three of them would regret. It would not be very good if Ron "accidentally" maimed their only friendly guide to the island and it would be a shame if he lost his best friend "accidentally" while on said island.

But what Ron did just now... He wasn't sure if it was the smart thing to do. Obviously, Midgen had wanted to keep their identities from Malfoy, but Ron just deflated that one idea. 

He looked to Malfoy who was doing a pretty credible imitation of a fish out of water. His face looked as if he felt like it as well. With his lips forming silent words that couldn't quite get themselves out and the expression of a man who had just been thrown off-track, Malfoy looked as if he was fully and totally perplexed.

"Wh-what? Wh-who?" 

Harry furrowed his brow. This was one complication he didn't need. A confused and most likely explosive Malfoy was something he couldn't deal with, not now. He had tangled with Malfoy for seven years of his life. They had been adversaries on opposite sides of the war for almost that long. Sometimes, he felt he knew Malfoy better than most of his friends.

_But you obviously didn't know as much as you thought you did about Malfoy,_ the little voice inside him pointed out, thinking of all the times he had fought with Malfoy, secure in his belief that Malfoy had a black soul only to find out that for years, they had been fighting for the same side.

"Calm down, Malfoy," Harry tried, moving closer and laying a hand on him. The other man flinched from his touch, sending a shot of pain through his chest. For a brief moment, he wondered about that, but then dismissed it just as quickly. _I've never had something move away in fear of me before,_ he rationalized.

He tried again, determined to make the other man understand that he was no threat to him. "Look," he began, using a soft voice deliberately. "I'm not going to hurt you. They're--" Harry pointed to the satisfied Ron and the upset Midgen, "--not going to hurt you."

"Speak for yourself," Ron muttered just as Harry had opened his mouth to speak.

Harry briefly closed his eyes in exasperation, the imitation of the long suffering hero complete. Sometimes, he didn't need _Ron_. 

Opening his eyes again, he was met with Malfoy's expectant eyes and the figure of Ron, looking innocently as he tried to pretend he didn't say a thing. He slowly opened his mouth, sending a glare at Ron to make sure he didn't interrupt him again. "We're here to help you."

Malfoy crossed his arms across his chest. "H-help m-me?" he asked, his left eyebrow lifting up in question.

"Yes!" Harry stressed, glad Malfoy was finally getting it. It almost seemed that he was beginning to be more comfortable with him present when Malfoy didn't try to move away when he took a few steps closer.

"R-right," Malfoy thought out loud. "You h-help m-me. F-fine. G-get m-me out of h-here," he ordered. "And I w-want t-to know wh-what h-he m-meant about h-him b-being the little W-weasley I know in sch-hool." Malfoy pointed to Ron, who just stared at him. After a few moments, Malfoy shuddered and looked away.

"He's..." Harry floundered, searching his mind trying to think of a suitable answer. "He's..."

"I'm Ron," Ron answered, trying to be helpful. "And he's Harry. Harry Potter. The Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived."

"Ron!" Harry hissed. "Stop that!"

"What? Look at him! Look at him stutter! Look at the great Draco Malfoy now!" Ron laughed gleefully, taking delight in the shock and surprise on Malfoy's face.

With a scream Eloise once again launched herself at Ron, pushing the unsuspecting man down easily. Before Harry could stop her, she had pinned Ron to the ground with her legs straddling his body. Her hands gripping his robe, yanking the man up as she kept on yelling.

"You. Have. No. Right," she yelled, punctuating each word with a shake. "To. Judge. Draco. He's. Done. A lot. More. For. This. Cause. Than. You. Have."

Alarmed at her sudden behavior -- but not particularly surprised -- Harry rushed over to pull the frantic woman off of his friend. His eyes widened at the sight. Ron's head was rolling side to side as Eloise continued to shout. His eyes were frightfully rolled back into his head, showing the whites.

With one last hard yank, thrusting the man up, Eloise threw the body down the floor, the head making an awfully sounding thud. As she got off the man, Harry crouched down, pulling Ron up to a sitting position. 

"You okay?" Harry asked the dazed Ron.

Rubbing his head and glaring at Eloise, Ron bit out through clenched teeth. "Fine." He turned his head to Harry. "You could have helped, you know, get the mad woman off of me."

Harry smiled and got up, stepping aside. "Yes," he agreed. "I could have, but I thought you deserved what you got. You could have had more tact."

Ron snorted. "Me? Tact?"

Harry eyes filled with amusement. "Good point." He turned to face the other two occupants of the cell. Draco was looking more shocked, more surprised and even more pale, if that was even possible. It looked as if he had questions to ask, but not sure if he could form and get them out. Eloise had her arms crossed in front of her chest, glaring and frowning at Ron. _Big surprise,_ Harry thought. "Are you two ready to act civilly to each other?"

"As long as the she stays away from me," Ron answered easily. "Yeheh!" he cried out, ducking behind Harry. "She growled at me!" he accused. "With teeth!"

Harry fought the urge to laugh. Glancing over, he could see Draco, whom had been serious ever since he had woken up trying to do the same. For some reason, it made him glad that he had found some mirth in this scene. God only knows what the man -- the boy -- had gone through; it would do him good to get a little humor in his life. Thinking back, he couldn't remember a time when Draco had ever laughed for the sure fun of it. They were never very good friends and most of the time when he was laughing was at the expense of another, but his laughter had never had the full feeling that he meant it. It always had a hollow feeling to it, devoid of true emotion. _I don't think I've ever seen him smile genuinely either..._

"Okay," Harry began. "I think we all should calm down." He motioned for everybody to sit, dropping down with his legs folded in example. Warily, they all moved to do the same. With Draco hiding on one side, leaning against the wall, scooting away when Eloise tried to sit by him. Watching them closely, he could see the flash of hurt flicker on Eloise's face before it was quickly masked and she moved to sit on the adjacent wall. Ron settled into the space on his right and then they were all seated.

Glancing around the cell, he found it tragic that they were all sitting away from each other, with the exception of him and Ron. Draco had chosen to distant himself from everybody, choosing a spot that was far from all three of them. Eloise clearly wanted to be where Draco was, but when it became clear _he_ didn't want to be anywhere near _her_, she sat as close as she could from him, while being as far away so that he felt comfortable. And then they both sat relatively away from Harry and Ron. Harry sighed. It was going to take a lot longer than they had for them go trust each other.

"I w-want t-to know what's going on." Draco broke the silence, his face collected. Harry noticed with satisfaction that the stutter seemed to be letting up.

"I know you do. I'm just not sure it's the wisest thing to tell you." Harry sighed. When he saw that Draco wasn't going to relent, he tried again. "Why don't you tell me what you know and we'll fill in the blanks," Harry requested, stalling for more time to think. In the corner of his eye he could see Eloise nodding her approval.

He watched as Draco teetered between wanting to know what had happened and telling his story, biting his bottom lip and looking from side to side. Briefly he wondered if he did that eye thing whenever Draco made a decision. _He does look very endearing like that_, he mused absentmindedly. _Very young...I wonder how long it's been since he's had that innocent quality..._ If someone had asked him two weeks ago, he would have laughed at the person's face. Draco Malfoy, innocent? It was laughable. Draco Malfoy has never been innocent a day in his life! But now, seeing the indecision dance on his face, and his mouth twisted in a small little frown... _Woah!_ he stopped himself. _That_ was not something he wanted something he wanted to get into. _Draco?! Endearing?! Innocent?!_ He had to stop this train of thought. Now. For God's sake! He's twelve! Disgusted with himself, he curtailed his thoughts. _Besides, this really isn't the time to be thinking of your repressed emotions_, the little voice inside him told him.

"So?" Harry prompted, determined to keep his thought away from Draco for the time being. "What's it going to be?" He watched as the blond breathed in and out. Finally he lifted his head and gave Harry a slight nod of consent.

"I'm not sure how long I've been here..." Draco began.

"Just do the best you can," Eloise encouraged with a bright smile. "And you've been here for five days, approximately."

Draco frowned, crinkling his eyes as he regarded the woman to his left. The unspoken question was evident in his face. Then his face clear up. "Yes...you're that woman..." he muttered, half to himself as he remembered; the nights where she would lay her hand on his face, his head, mumbling encouragements, much like she was doing now. Giving him a smile when all he could see were hard faces, a little compassion in the mists of nothing but cruelty, indifference... "W-who are you?" he asked in wonder, his eyes wide.

Eloise gave him a small smile. "Eloise Midgen. A...friend."

"The H-Hufflepuff?" Draco asked incredulously. The First Year Slytherins didn't have many classes with the Hufflepuffs, but they had some and he was always good with faces. This woman wasn't that slip of a girl he remembered seeing only months before. "You're not her."

"Yes, I am. Just older. Wiser. A lot less naive about the world but a war could do that to you."

"W-war?"

"Light and Dark, Draco. Good and Bad. Voldemort and...you." Catching the eyes of Ron and Harry she amended her last statement. "Okay, not just you. Potter over there and Weasley. And the ever lovable Dumbledore of course." She slid closer to the man she held in rapture. "You always knew this day was coming. Well, it's here."

_Smooth_, Harry thought as he looked at the pair. _A lot smoother than I could have done it... _

Breaking eye contact with Eloise, Draco turned his head away, looking first at Ron. "Ron W-weasley," he announced, almost as if he recognized him. He probably was. Draco quirked a grin. "The Weasel."

"As much as I hate to admit it, but that's right," Ron answered.

He turned to Harry next. "And you're Pott-ter. H-Harry Pott-ter."

Harry gave him a curt nod. "Yep. That's me." He could almost see his mind making the rapid connections as he realized what was.

"H-how old am I?"

Harry shrugged, looking to Ron to see if he knew the answer, but he raised his hands showing he was empty handed. They knew Draco was their age. They were in the same year together. But what his exact age was...that they weren't so certain about. They never knew him to celebrate his birthday, or even advertise it much. Vaguely, Harry thought he remembered Draco bragging that over the summer, his father had gotten him the latest broom or something like that...

"You're twenty-seven," Eloise answered, sighing as she didn't, getting both of them off their hooks.

"Wh-where are w-we?"

His next question surprised Harry. He would have thought the question would have been "what happened to me" or "why have I lost my memory" or something along that line. "Malos Island, heard of it?" Harry asked, wondering if this place was in existence even way back then. The whereabouts of this place wasn't the only thing that was sketchy. They had known that the place existed for quite few years, had heard about it too many times to dismiss it entirely, and it had been featured prominently in several Gregon stories, but they hadn't learned the location of the place until four years ago, when Dennis Creevey had infiltrated the island. 

Draco shook his head. "No." 

_Well, at least we know that... _

"This place has only been here for nine years," Eloise explained. "It was Draco's conception, his baby."

"Figures," Ron muttered. "I just bet he was the one who thought up what happened to me three years ago..."

"No, that was me," Eloise volunteered with a false smile. "It was pretty twisted, wasn't it?"

Harry reached out and snagged one of Ron's arms before he could get up and go over there. "Forget about it," he whispered, knowing fully well how Ron would react to a statement like that. His capture and what happened during it had always been a soft spot for him. "She's just trying to provoke you."

"I'd say so," Ron growled, casting the smirking woman one last look. 

The smirk left Eloise face soon after when she realized Ron wasn't giving her the satisfaction. What would be the fun in rubbing someone's face in if they refused to get riled by it? There wouldn't be any. So she sighed and got back to the point.

"Hey!"

Their heads went up in surprise. This had been the loudest Draco had gotten since he had awaken. "I st-till h-have qu-questions, you know..."

Harry motioned for him to go ahead.

"If you're th-the Boy Wh-who Lived and w-we're in a cell, th-then wh-why am I h-here?"

"You've been captured."

Draco puzzled over the simple sentence, not getting it. Tentatively, he asked, "So wh-why are you th-three h-here?"

"To rescue you," Ron answered, just as straightforward, making it sound as if everyone should know this by now.

By the look on Draco's face, he still didn't get it. "W-why?"

"Good question," Ron praised. Pushing on the floor, he turned his body to face Harry. "Maybe you could answer that oh Boy Who Lived."

Slightly annoyed by Ron's behavior, Harry tried to make Draco understand. "You...I mean...You're a spy," he rushed out, his words jumbling into each other. "And...we..._you're_ working for us." Harry shrugged. Okay, so that wasn't the real truth seeing as from what he's heard the Gregon worked for himself, but it was close enough to it. _And it's not like he'll know the difference..._

"I...w-work for the W-weasel?" Draco exclaimed, his voice hitting a high note on the word "Weasel". His face reflected how disturbed and disgusted he was at that prospect.

"That's right, Malfoy," Ron affirmed smugly. "For me," he spoke with relish. For a moment, Ron turned his head to Harry to show how glad he was that he embellished the truth on that last bit.

"Oh cut it out." Eloise rolled her eyes. "You don't work for him. You don't work for anybody. They didn't even know you existed a few days ago."

"Wh-what?"

His soft question was ignored as Harry tried to explain what he meant. "Okay, maybe "worked for" was a bad example. More like work with."

Draco turned to Eloise for confirmation.

"Meaning you work with their boss who made them work with you," she translated with a deadpan expression on her face.

"You were unmasked and revealed as a spy so we're here to bail you out," Ron contributed.

"I'm a spy?" Draco asked out loud in wonder. He glanced at Harry. "Against the Dark Lord?"

Harry nodded.

"I've..." he started, but didn't finish. "I'm..." 

It sounded like he was finding it hard to believe what they were telling him.

He lifted his head, his eyes filled with a bright light that wasn't there before. "I'm the Grey Dragon, aren't I?"

Their collective head shot up in shock of hearing the name on his lips.

"Aren't I?"

* * *

A/N: Oh boy it's been a long time, hasn't it? With ff.net down for so long and with me working on other stuff (mostly not at all...a sorta vacation from the story)... This chapter is a bit shorter than usual so I'm sorry, but I had to get it finished...

I hope the stutter wasn't too much (I thought it was, my beta didn't)... I had other thoughts to share, but it's too hot here to think...

Red: Don't worry about it. It all worked out in the end.

Tionne: Thanks! Yes, I think Draco is just putting up a hard front, but how long can he stand before it starts to chink? I hate Ron because...I don't know...It's the fanfics...they did it...

Lesat: Hey, how'd you like this part?

chrisseee667: Thank you so much! Very! Plot is on of the main things I was trying to do and for someone to comment on it...that's just great!

Enid: Not soon, eh? You wait for each chapter? Yikes! That's must have taken some time... I'm sorry I can't get them out sooner.

WildfireFriendship: Has it been too long? I think so. Thanks for the review!

Youko Gingitsune: Draco is awake and talking! Hope _he_ doesn't disappoint!

MOI: Ha! LOL!

Sorry for the really long reviews, I just like to try and get everybody... Oh I thought of something to say. I would like some H/D action happening, but Draco...he may be physically 27 years old, but mentally (and personally I think that's all that matters) he's 12 and that's just wrong. So you see my dilemma. I can't let it get too paternal, cause that would kill it later on and I can't get too smoldering with Draco confused and lost and Harry all caught up in his emotions... This is going to be one hard fanfic to finish...

So see ya until next time...how ever long that may be.


	14. Chapter 13

****

Chapter Thirteen

From the moment Malfoy had uttered the word "Grey Dragon", Ron had been staring at him with wide eyes. "How the hell do you know that name?" he growled, remembering the fact that Malfoy was not supposed to have known it. It was before his time. If he remembered his Gregon history right -- and he did -- the stories of the Grey Dragon didn't appear until their Sixth Year. It was entirely possible that he had started before then, in the Fifth Year, but he doubted it would have been further than that. And that should have been when Malfoy came to be aware of the Grey Dragon, not when he was twelve. _Maybe one of the guards told him..._

Under his and Harry intense gaze, he waited for Malfoy to answer. The man shrugged, annoying Ron that he was taking this so nonchalantly. 

"I j-just...do," Malfoy answered with another little shrug.

Ron frowned. "You can't just _do_."

"Wh-why not?"

"You just can't," Ron answered defensively, in lieu of anything else to say. 

Malfoy looked at him strangely, but didn't comment. His apathetic attitude prickled his senses, making him want to jump over there and strangle the little twerp. But then again, he had found in the last decade of knowing Malfoy, it was a feeling he felt very often. He was sure many who have met Malfoy in person have had the same urge. Flaring his nose, Ron breathed in deeply. This was no time to go off. _But-But- He's Malfoy!_ he whined, wanting to be set free and to terrorize the other man. He thought of all the time's at Hogwarts when the guy had gotten in his way, the many times he made fun of him, his family and the all the times the git had deliberately tried to ruin his and his friends' lives. He was a good for nothing, pompous, spoiled little brat then and he was one now. It would make him feel so good -- and he knew it would feel very good -- to have the upper hand for once. He could just feel it; he knew the other man was disoriented, unfamiliar with his current body, and despite he being years older than the boy he knew from school, he was still relatively small for a man his age. He on the other hand had managed to bulk up, making it an easy task to over power the other man.

But then he thought of the woman, _Midgen_. From what he'd seen of her, she was fiercely protective of Malfoy. Why, he would never understand. _After all, who the hell would want to protect that git?_ And when push came to shove, she could manage to deliver a mighty blow against him.

And there was Harry. Harry was the ultimate good guy. He would never allow him to harm an innocent, even if that innocent was Draco Malfoy, the bane of their existence for seven years. And he could see the way Harry looked at the blonde... He didn't like it, he didn't it one bit. It seemed like Harry was all to ready to forgive Malfoy of his sins of the past, even knowing what he had done to hundreds of wizards and witches. But not if he had anything to say about it. Harry was his friend. He wasn't about ready to let some smooth talker pull the wool over Harry's eyes. _In two days, Malfoy would be back to his normal self and then Harry would see... He'll see what Malfoy really is, what sort of monster he is..._

"I think what Ron is trying to ask is how do you know of the Grey Dragon when the Grey Dragon doesn't exist for couple of more years? For you that is?" Harry explained tactfully, cutting into Ron's thoughts. Ron seemed to be getting no where with his offensive attitude. 

To be on the offense was not the way to go when it comes to Malfoy. Harry knew that after years of working with Malfoy. The defensive, overt way wasn't right either. When you go on the offensive, Draco would respond in the same way and then both of you would be stalemated, both unsatisfied. Going defensive and he'll attack you just when you least expect it, like a snake springing to bite you. Then you lose. If you try to be friendly, going the overt way to gain his trust, he'll just immediately distrust you. Thinking about it, Malfoy wasn't really a trusting person. Harry frowned, trying to think of the people he'd trusted. There was Midgen of course, and Crabbe and Goyle, but they weren't very good examples seeing as they've betrayed him...

"It's..." Malfoy tried to explain. "It's a bit h-hard t-to s-say--"

"I know," Eloise interrupted unexpectedly. "You've told me a million times how it all started."

"I h-have?" Malfoy asked surprised evident on his face.

Eloise nodded. "Think of it this way Potter. You're the son of a Death Eater, a prominent one no less, yet you have none of the desire to follow in your father's footsteps. But you admire your father -- he's all you've ever wanted to be. You love the way he commands people around him, how he welds power like a sword, cutting through all that resists him."

Turning to face the woman beside him, Draco stared in openmouthed awe. That was _exactly_ how he had felt. He almost wanted to ask how could she know all this, his most inner thoughts, something he had never shared with anyone in his life, but hesitated realizing he didn't want to ruin the moment.

"You want me to go on?" she asked and for several seconds, he didn't realize she was talking to him, asking his permission. He nodded, wanting to hear more.

"You want to be your father. You want to have the power he has and you know you're well on your way. But at the same time, you don't like what this _Voldemort_--" she spat the name vehemently.

Unwittingly, Draco gasped at the name. _She said...You-Know-Who's name!_ With one glance at Harry and Ron he could see no difference on their faces, baffling him. But before he had even the time to get over his shock at the name and the surprise that no one else was taking the saying of said name seriously, she was talking again.

"--was doing to your parents. They seemed to be possessed. He hurts you," Eloise said clearly, looking start into Draco's eyes. He turned away, hiding away. "He hurts you," she repeated. "But you're convinced that he has a reason. You've been bad, broken something, spoke out of turn, raised your voice, something, anything." Her voice echoed off the walls, bouncing off each person in the room. So calm, she was, so precise. There was no pity in her voice, no judging, just the clear, hard facts. And that made it seem even more condemning. "Because you know your father would never hurt you on purpose. It's because you've been bad. He hurts you for a reason. He would never hurt you for no reason. You tell yourself that, day in, day out, night after night. You say it again and again and again--" her voice gaining strength with every breath, her words suffocating him, surround him. "--again, and again, trying to believe it. Again and again and again and--"

"STOP IT!" Draco exploded, causing Ron and Harry to jump. There was rage in his eyes and a red tint on his cheeks as he screamed again. "Stop it, stop it!"

They expect Midgen to stop at that, Draco's outburst bring Harry and Ron out of their trance. Midgen had that tone of voice that just lulls a listener into her world until there was nothing but her voice and what she was saying. But the way she was going with her "again and again". Harry shuddered. It had gotten him too -- her voice as she uttered the word over and over again, driving it deeper and deeper into his soul had shaken him to his core. 

She didn't stop, if anything her voice gained in speed until her words became a whirl of emotions and thoughts fighting all the way, trying to get out. "But you couldn't believe it. You've blamed yourself and you still can't believe it. So what do you do? You turn to Voldemort. He's the one who's doing this, ruining your lives. He's the one making your father like this. _He's to blame._ So you hate him. You hate what he's doing to you, to your father, to your family. And you dream about being the one to take him down. Return some normalcy to your life."

"No!" Draco cried, denying it. "No!"

"Yes!" Midgen said right back. "And like any child who's face with something they can't fix but really want things to change, you start thinking of this great person, somebody you could be when you're older. You make of this fantastic person, someone who can do anything, is boundless, someone people look up to and admire, someone who's strong enough to defeat the Dark Lord, free his family... You even name this someone that you would become. The Grey Dragon. Dragon because of your name. Grey because that is what you are. Not of the Light. Not of the Dark. In between. Embraced by both. Grey. The Grey Dragon," she finished with a whisper, stilling. The fervor and passion that had controlled her leaving her until she was again no more an ordinary woman.

"Well," Ron said after a moment of silence. "That's was uncalled for."

Silently, Harry agreed with him. Though Midgen's performance was...dramatic and did what she had set out to do, it was a bit...more intense than what he'd expected. A lot more. It was certainly not the way he would have gone about it. One look at Draco and you could see the boy was seriously frightened. The blonde man's chest was heaving heavily, his eyes wide and unblinking and the way he was inching away from Midgen was a dead clue as to how freaked out from the experience he was.

In his head, he cursed the woman for being so careless. By his reckoning, they had just dropped severely in getting Draco to trust them. For someone who professed to be a friend of Draco, Harry couldn't believe she could be so tactless. _There were ways, he thought, to tell him and not at the same time seem like you're berating them._ Sighing, he came to the conclusion that if he were to get Draco to be comfortable with their presence -- Midgen's especially -- he would have to make the first move. With that in mind, he stood up slowly, fighting the urge to stretch, the cricks in his back screaming from sitting so long on the floor. 

He walked over to Draco, slowly so he could get used to the idea that he was coming over him and dropped down right next to the other man. To his relief and joy, the other man didn't move away, only a slight flinch which he supposed Draco couldn't have helped.

Harry could feel the eyes of Midgen and Ron on him and Draco, knowing fully that if he was feeling them, so was Draco. Ron's questioning gaze, dead on him as he sat near other man, wondering what the hell was his lunatic best friend was thinking in his little head and Midgen's narrowed eyes as she watched them suspiciously.

"Look," Harry began quietly, speaking so only Draco could hear him. "I know this is hard and what Midgen just did makes it even hard, but you've got to trust us."

"T-trust?" Even unsteady as he was, Draco still managed to scoff at him. "T-to do wh-what? P-prot-tect m-me? Get m-me out of h-here? I don't even know wh-what you're t-talking about."

_Hmm. He's got a point. I am not making much sense...not even to me,_ he thought as he reviewed what he had just said. "What I mean is don't take what Midgen too seriously. I have no idea what's wrong with her, but she had no right to say what she said about you." There, he said it. Though she had mentioned no names, it was clear to everyone that she had meant Draco himself. But it wasn't until that moment, that he had actually gone out and said it, putting it out there in concrete as fact.

Draco stayed silent, turning away slightly.

Harry coughed, nervously. "Well, right," he said, not really knowing what to say, but didn't want to leave the silence stretching as it was. He turned his head from staring at the side of Draco's face and stared straight ahead. Neither of them speak and with Ron and Midgen not in the conversation, the silence he didn't want stretching stretched uncomfortably.

Desperate, he sent a silent plea to Ron, telling him to save him from this. Ron shook his head and turned away; he was alone in this. _Come on,_ he begged with his face. Ron shook his head even more vigorously and mouthed the word "no". Frustrated, he almost growled, curbing it in the last moment. He sent a similar plea to Midgen, but she was as stubborn as ever, refusing to even turn her head.

"I d-don't b-believe you," Draco suddenly announced. "You are n-not H-harry Potter and h-he is n-not Ron W-weasley. I d-don't kn-know wh-who you are, but I w-want my f-father. Now."

"What the hell do you mean you mean you don't believe us?" Ron exploded, despite his resolve to stay out of it. "You-you-you..."

"I don't," Draco repeated with a cool, clipped voice. "I don't care who you are but I don't b-believe anything you say. There is no p-possible way you are who you say you are and I am t-tired of this game. Let me go!" he screamed the last part.

"This is no game," Ron hissed. "Harry and I risked _our lives_ to get your sorry arse out of here and you tell us you don't want to go?!"

"Calm down! Both of you! He's just confused, that's all!" Midgen tried, moving closer to Draco but he just disgustedly got up and walked away from her.

"He's not confused, he's deranged!" Ron protested. "He's a damn idiot!"

Harry watched the exchange with tired eyes. This was beginning to annoy him. _Why can we never have a conversation without those two going at it?_ Convinced it was his bad luck, he left the quarreling duo and went to approach Draco. He had noticed with approval that he was losing his stutter, a sure sign that he was becoming more comfortable with his surroundings...and hopefully with his company.

"I w-want this to end and I w-want my father," Draco told him point-blank, his arms crossed on his chest.

"There's nothing I want but for this to end," Harry responded to the first statement. "But I can't do to help you on the part about your father."

"I w-want my father." The blond was not budging from his stance.

"Your father isn't here. We've told you that already." There was something to be said about the truth. Sometimes the simplest thing to say was most often the thing that was believed.

"I d-don't b-believe you."

Well, maybe not this time. Harry sighed, seeing no way easy way to solve this. "Believe it, Malfoy. It's the truth."

"I still d-don't b-believe you."

The boy was beginning to annoy him, reminding him of all those years of being in the same class as Malfoy. Not memories he would ever want to remember, if he could have helped it. He was having trouble speaking of Draco as a _boy_ when nothing about the blonde man's body standing only a few feet away resembled a boy's. And though he would never admit it, he had looked and admired.

"I don't care," Harry hissed and instantly regretted it when he saw a flash of pain in Draco's eyes before it was expertly masked away. The last thing he wanted to do was to degrade Draco's trust in him more than it already had been. Harry sighed again. Looking up, he questioned the heavens, _Why don't I ever get anything easy?_ Lowering his head he answered his own question. _Because I'm the Boy Who Lived,_ he said with a resigned voice in his head. "Sorry," he hurriedly apologized, realizing this was one of the few times he had actually _apologized_ to Draco. He watched as Draco shrugged it off as if was nothing, wishing he would take it seriously. The one time he actually says he's sorry -- and mean it -- it's brushed off. 

"I w-want my father," Draco stubbornly asked again, jutting out his chin.

The obstinate attitude was starting to exasperate him. "He's. Not. Here," he bit out, saying each word individually to make his point. "I've told you that already and you seemed to have accepted it."

"Not any more. I don't know wh-what game are you playing but I w-want t-to leave!"

Harry felt the urge to just scream incoherently at the frustration. A couple of minutes ago, Draco was perfectly fine with the idea that he was twenty-seven years old, a spy against Voldemort and that his father had nothing to do with his current situation. Now... Now, they were back to the beginning. What was that saying? _One step forward, two steps backwards._ That was how he felt exactly. _But,_ he thought. _I can't do any good getting frustrated._ "Your father isn't here." It suddenly struck him how silly it was to keep on repeating the same thing over and over again, hoping it would somehow get through Malfoy's thick head when it clearly wasn't. "I mean..." he began again and didn't know where to go with it. He abandoned that and started over. "Tell me, why do you want your father so much?"

Malfoy looked at him strangely. "Because I w-want t-to leave."

"And why do you think your father can help you leave?"

"Because he's my father."

The simplistic answer stunned him. _Because he's my father._ Just because he was his father. Not for the first time, he wondered if his father had been there for him his entire life, would he come to admire and depend on him as it was clear how much Draco did his? Despite knowing all the things Lucius Malfoy had done to the world and what had been hinted he had done to his son, Draco still unequivocally loved his father. Feeling empty inside of him, as he did every time he thought of his parents, Harry ignored the gnawing pain and instead tried to break it to the boy in front of him. "Malfoy...Your father...he's dead...has been for some time...he's not going to be able to help you..."

Instead of the breakdown, surprise, shock, sadness or any of the other emotions Harry had been expecting Draco to show, the boy just barely blinked in response, seemingly totally unfazed by truth.

"He's not," Draco announced. "I saw him only a few days ago."

Harry groaned. "No, you saw him fifteen years ago." Wondering how much longer of this he could take and how much longer could he afford to give it, Harry waited for an answer from Draco.

"I am not twenty-seven!" the blond denied with intensity, shaking his head. "I'm twelve! I remember my first year at Hogwarts -- how the stupid Gryffindors stole t-the House Cup from us, I remember being sorted, I remember Potter and t-the wh-whole th-thing with t-the Philosopher's Stone..."

"That happened fifteen years ago and we didn't steal the House Cup from the Slytherins!" He couldn't help but say the last part in defense of his old House.

"Really? Wh-what about how you w-were trailing t-the Slytherins by 160 points and th-then Dumbledore gave you 170 points! Fifty points t-to Granger, fifty points t-to Weasley, sixty t-to you and t-then wh-when w-we w-were at a tie, he found another Gryffindor t-to award points t-to! Ten! Right!"

"We deserved those points! So did Neville! Do you know how hard it was for him to stand up to Hermione like that?" Harry couldn't believe it. If it weren't happening at the very moment, he would have found it absolutely absurd. He was arguing something that happened long in the past, something that he had gotten over -- though if he were truthful, he would have said there was nothing to have gotten over in the first place -- and was long dead.

"Never mind, Malfoy," he quickly retracted, not wanting to be drawn into another lengthy discussion that would most likely end up with the two of them arguing and he as far away from what he had wanted to talk about. Draco had that effect on him... _I wonder if he does it on purpose,_ he mused, his thoughts wandering. _He probably does..._

"Tell me, do you remember, just before our First Year, we were at Madam Malkin's?" Harry asked, his voice betraying how excited he was. How could he be so stupid?! It was the perfect idea! Tell him of things only he and Draco knew, it would have to convince him of the truth!

"No," Draco answered defiantly.

Harry looked down at him, pausing for a moment. "Before your First Year at Hogwarts, you had to get school robes at Madam Malkin's. There was another boy there, who you knew later to be Harry Potter," Harry corrected, not believing he was going along with Draco. He _had_ met Draco all those years ago and if _he_ could remember their first meeting fifteen years later, then Draco should be able to remember, it being only the last year for him.

"I already knew wh-who he was," Draco responded sullenly.

Well, that was probably all he was going to get out of the other boy. _I should be grateful,_ he thought to himself. _After all, it was almost a yes._

_Wait!_ Harry ran Draco's last sentence through his mind. _He already knew who I was?!_ Frowning slightly, he looked at the sulking boy with an appraising eye. But... It didn't make sense! When he'd met Draco at the shop, the other boy hadn't acted as if he knew the boy he was talking to was the Boy Who Lived. At least he didn't act like everybody else he had met in his lifetime. One they knew they were talking to the Boy Who Lived, they would all go either three ways. One, they would get very shy and coy, almost as if they couldn't believe he was standing in front of them of all people. Two, they would get very quiet, their eyes wide and their mouth open in a good imitation of a fish out of water (that had always been fun to watch) and lastly, they would start to hyperventilate, shrieking or stuttering, getting very nervous or excited. Either way, it was often very embarrassing to be around. A scene like that tends to draw people and when you would like nothing better than to be anywhere than where you were presently at, it was a chore not to just cut and run.

But that brought him back to his earlier revelation; Draco knew who it was he had been talking to at Madam Malkin all those years yet never gave any indication. It wouldn't have really changed anything. Draco would have still insulted Hagrid and Ron and he would have made the same proposal and in turn, Harry would have still refused. But... _He knew?_ He couldn't explain why it mattered to him, only that it did.

It was funny how this man, this boy, was inspiring such emotions inside of him, none of which he could identify and if he were honest with himself, he didn't want them to be identified. They made him want to laugh at the absurdity of it all and cry at the uselessness of it. But he couldn't afford to breakdown, not now, not with so much at stake. _Later,_ he himself, when he was safe at home and alone, he would deal with his feelings. _Just...not now._

"All right," Harry spoke, feeling empty at his choice of words. There was so much he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask. But instead of voicing them, he was settling for filler. "Now how would I have known you met Harry Potter there if I'm not him? There was no one else in that shop, but the two of us."

"And Madam Malkin," Draco pointed out.

"Yes, and Madam Malkin," Harry corrected. "But she doesn't count."

"Wh-why not?" Draco looked straight into Harry's eyes, imploring him to explain. "My point is th-that she could have t-told anyone about how Potter and I met him. Potter could have t-told his friends how w-we met. Or--" he grasped at another idea. "--or th-that giant could have seen me. It's not like it's a secret."

His first reaction was inform Malfoy that that giant had a name, but Harry bit his tongue. _No more complications. He is not going to goad me into another argument._ He had to keep his cool -- that was the one thing he had to do in order to come out on top. 

The second reaction, after Harry had allowed the thing about Hagrid pass was that he was right. He had told his friends about how he'd met Malfoy. Thinking about how to pass this latest obstacle, Harry smiled. "We talked -- well, you talked -- about Hogwarts and Quidditch, you asked me if my parents were purebloods and..." Straining to remember it, Harry thought back until he was once again a naive twelve year old that for the first time in his life had been free of the Dursely's. Though it might have seemed to be a breeze to an outsider to remember all these things from fifteen years ago in the past, it wasn't. It had been fifteen years after all... 

"Your mother!" Harry exclaimed coming to it in burst of thought and startling Draco. "Your mother was looking at wands and your father at books next door." He smiled triumphantly. "Even if the details about how I met you had been passed around, why would _that_ be?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "It's not it's something important."

When Draco failed to answer, Harry grin grew even wider. _Ha! Got you!_ he laughed in his head. _There's no way to turn, Draco...I've got you cornered._ It gave him great satisfaction that he had beaten Draco, even though technically they weren't exactly competing for anything. Hoping that this signified a new turn in their relationship, one that didn't have Draco doubting everything he and Ron are going to do, Harry allowed him to relax for the first time that night, knowing things would be all right.

* * *

Draco was...at a loss for words. The man -- he didn't feel comfortable with calling him even Harry, it made him feel too much like he was giving into the madness -- had a point. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. He knew how rumors worked, had used them to his advantage many times in the past. And he understood people; it was a knack he had. While some people were good-natured, musically inclined, artistic, he was perceptive about people. There was rarely a person he didn't understand. In times like this, it was best to trust your gut feelings. But what happens when your gut is telling you something you didn't want to know? What then?

And so he was lost. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye, careful not to alert his subject that he was watching. He watched as the smile on his face grew wider, and how he visibly relaxed, the aura around him becoming less constrictive and consuming. This was a man who was relishing a good win, a man who knew he was right and that no one could prove him wrong. A man who was vindicated.

_Damn,_ Draco cursed in his head. He rarely cursed, it wasn't refined behavior as his father said many times. He stubbornly refused to comment, knowing there was no way for him to make his point. But he wasn't ready! _He can't be Harry Potter! He can't!_ Holding onto his belief, he remained silent.

When the woman, started speaking for him as if he couldn't respond himself, he had felt annoyed. But then he was held entranced as she spun her tale. If anything, she had a talent for storytelling, but it made him uncomfortable to admit it, even in the relative safety of his own thoughts simply because these were _his thoughts, his feelings, his motivation_. What she was telling for all the world to hear -- and he was quite aware that there was no one in the small cell but he and three others, but as far as he was concerned, it was three too many -- was _his life_! Something that was his only, something he had claim to. How dare she lay it out like it was a painting on display?! She had captured everything perfectly, right down to his admiration and apprehension (it wasn't fear, his father always said _"Malfoys fear nothing."_) of his father, almost as if she had lived it herself. And that was hard to admit. His feelings, his thoughts were not foreign to him. He didn't hide from them like most people did, he just didn't like people knowing such intimate details of his life. 

_And she said she was my friend!_ he scoffed. _Some friend!_ He was convinced that if that woman had been any true friend of his, she would have kept quiet.

He lifted his head, his eyes locking on a point on Harry's forehead. It was covered with long, straggly black hair, obscuring any view of the skin on his forehead. He was suddenly struck by how much this man resembled Harry Potter. Wondering why he didn't notice the resemblance earlier, he compared the two. They both had the same raven black hair, and the eyes...they were the exact shade of emerald green. The glasses, they were different. Where there had been thick, black frames, now there was thin, gold rimmed ones. _A lot more stylish,_ he commented to himself. He had always noticed those little details about him... _And about other people,_ he added quickly. It was just another aspect of his perceptiveness.

Tentatively, he allowed himself for the first time to even try and suppose that this man standing in front of him was...exactly who he said he was...Harry Potter... Draco fought the urge to gasp as his head was flooded with images...

_Harry Potter, youngest Seeker in the history of Hogwarts, smiling triumphantly as he held up the fluttering, gold snitch in his hand in his victory over the Slytherins._

Harry Potter, standing next to him, smiling the same triumphant smile as he realized he had won.

Harry Potter back then, glaring at him as he maimed him with a passing insult.

Harry Potter as he was now, his face twisted in barely concealed annoyance as his patience was tried.

Harry Potter...

Harry Potter...

He didn't know when he started to think of this man standing in front of him as Harry Potter, but that his subconscious mind did...it said a lot to him. For one thing it meant that he was finally believing him. But deep down, he had had the nagging doubt that what Harry had been saying was truthful; he just didn't want to believe it.

He had been sure that they had been lying! Ever since they started talking about he being a spy -- a spy of all things! And against the Dark Lord! He didn't have a death wish! Not now, and he doubted he would ever have one. Death just wasn't on his list of things to look forward too. And even if he did, death by You-Know-Who? That gave him the chills. He knew what that deranged thing was capable of...even now, not having a whole body he was still very powerful, only just a bit diminished.

But if this was fifteen years into the future as he knew it, You-Know-Who must be stronger than he was when he was physically twelve... _Physically twelve, he laughed. It would be a lot easier if I could remember the last fifteen years... _

A stronger Dark Lord than he knew, it seemed practically inconceivable... One with more power and influence... Draco glanced around the cell, somehow knowing that this place that he was at, an island as he remember they told him. He couldn't remember the Death Eaters having an island before... And what was it that Eloise said? That this was his baby?

On one hand he was happy and pleased that he was so important in the future. It stoked his male pride that he was powerful Death Eater and accomplished spy. It wasn't exactly what he had planned on becoming but it still sounded good.

But on the other, he completely confused about...everything. Nothing was familiar to him, his life, the people around him, even his very own body was something alien. And it seemed he had made some mistake in this future of his that he was just discovering. Why else would he be here of all places? Stuck in a damp, dark cell, never allowed one moment of peace, all of those stupid questions... Where's this, what's that, what do you know about this?

And he didn't know... He didn't know... _It's me,_ he realized with a jolt. _I did this to me._ And suddenly it all made sense. He was the cause of all this. He messed up, some how, some way and then he wiped his own memory of the last fifteen years. _It's brilliant,_ he thought, proud of his future incarnation's reasoning. They had already used the Veritaserum on him and it had never led to him leaking anything out that he didn't want to be leaked out. Effective and smart, no matter what they had done to him, he still couldn't tell them anything they had wanted to hear because he didn't know it! Brilliant! _Too brilliant,_ he supposed, looking back on the past few days with less than fond memory. 

His captors were never deterred by his lack of response...irked maybe, but never deterred. You had to admire that about them... Each time he had refused to answer or answered in a way they didn't like, they only increased their efforts, tried harder... _Like a true Slytherin._ None one knew the tenacity of Slytherin unless they were one...

_That explains it._ He wanted to laugh at himself for being so stupid. That man, who he had commented to himself, that a lot like Crabbe's father... He _had_ been Vincent... The similarities had been amazing... I wonder if I look like my father... Draco wondered absent-mindedly, suddenly wanting a mirror so he could take a look. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the long locks. They were longer than he had remembered, but not by much. Again he was hit by the desire to find a mirror and get a look of this person he had become, this time so he could see himself for purely vain reasons.

_My father is dead._ His eyes opened wide in shock as he realized his father was dead. His breathing became hitched as he struggled to get air into his lungs, a task that suddenly seemed hard. But after the initial shock wore off, he was left feeling empty. _Shouldn't I be feeling a bit worse about this?_ His father was dead. His father was dead and for the life of him, he couldn't quite manage to feel too badly about it. He... What he felt for his father wasn't love, he was sure of it. It was more like...respect and admiration. Eloise had been right about that. He was like...a figure in history who had done a great deed, a bit like Salazar Slytherin. _Yes, that's right,_ he agreed. 

But the fact that his father was dead...it was a bit disconcerting. He had seen him just a few days ago, alive and well... But other than that, nothing. He didn't want to dwell too long on why he didn't feel devastated that his father was dead.

Suddenly feeling tired, he leaned back against the wall, sliding down until he was on the ground. He felt Harry's eyes on him, but he refused to look up at him. Just because he was wrong didn't mean he had to acknowledge the stupid fact that very moment. Besides, the man looked as if he was having too much fun delighting in his win anyway. 

He wanted to just relax for a while, let down his guard and not feel as if leaving himself bare and vulnerable to attack, but most of all he wished he could close his eyes. Ever since he'd awaken, he hadn't once closed his eyes for more than a second just to blink. Because even when it's just for a millisecond, as soon as he closed his eyes, he was back, alone in his cells with his screams vibrating over the walls as Crabbe laughed and there was no way he was going back there, not even in his thoughts.

Trying to forget his thoughts, he glanced over at Ron -- _God, that's really Ron Weasley?_ -- and Eloise, both still going at it strong, Ron's hands gesturing wildly, shaking at her, while she stood her stand, braced with her hands held clenched at her side. He wondered what had made the two of them harbor such animosity towards each other and was secretly wondering if they would come to blows again and if they did, could he watch?

Midgen had been a Hufflepuff, he was almost sure of that. The girl had blended into the background most of the time; she wasn't the type of girl to be noticed. There had been nothing spectacular about her then, now... Now, she was older, more mature. He hadn't been friends with her in their First Year or their Second. She was a _Hufflepuff_. He wouldn't be caught dead with one of _them_. But obviously he had changed if he was associated with her now...

He raised his head to meet eyes with Harry. "Are th-they going to stop any time soon?"

Harry glanced quickly at the pair. "I don't think so."

Accepting the answer, Draco nodded. "So I'm really th-the Grey Dragon," he said wondrously, stating it rather than asking it.

Harry nodded, crouching down so that they were both on the floor, side by side. "Yeah, you are." The man beside went silent as he thought about what that meant. Harry, his head still turned to Draco, watched as the shadows and light from the torch danced on his face. In the back of his mind, he remember something that Midgen had said earlier, something that he had filed away to ask about later. Now might not be a bad time, but he doubted Malfoy would answer him anyway. He had so many questions, but he knew he would most likely never get the answers. Malfoy was always that way in the past and most likely in the present.

"Th-this isn't permanent, is it?" Draco's voice broke into his silent reverie, the slight rise of agitation in his voice barely noticeable. "Th-this memory th-thing I mean. I'm going t-to get my memory back, right?"

Scrambling to assure him, Harry stumbled over his words as he hurried to get them out. "Yes! I mean, no, it's not permanent. At least I think it's not..." Harry trailed off, trying to remember what Dumbledore had told him. Missing the incredulous look Draco was sending him, he continued, "No, it's not," he amended, this time with more conviction. "The spell lasts only a week and it should run off on its own..."

The bumbling way Harry had started his response to the question had Draco less comforted. It wasn't as if he wanted to get his memory back... As far as he was concerned, he was twelve; it was all he remembered being. But, finding out you're in actuality twenty-seven years old, fifteen years older than what you had thought was your age, well then, it might just be good to remember those years of yours, even if you were content on just being twelve.

And he really wanted to remember being the Grey Dragon. Even the name gives him a thrill. _The Grey Dragon_, he relishes the thought of becoming his own hero, a hero given birth in the dark corners of a lonely, lost boy to comfort him and to give him hope when all seemed lost. A hero to rival even Harry Potter, the legendary Boy Who Lived. It was the arrogance, his conceit and pride that had led him to that one. Harry Potter who refused him, _he'll show that boy...just he wait..._ Foolish dreams that were never meant to be realized, a dream to keep you going late at night when it's so easy to just give up. Something must have happened for him to have made the Grey Dragon a reality; he wouldn't have done it otherwise.

His mouth itched to ask Harry about him, about everything he knew about the Grey Dragon, but he had a hard time getting the words from his mind to his mouth. It was pride, he supposed, and a bit of fear that was overriding his decisions. Either way, there was no way he was going to be crawling to Harry Potter to beg for information, not when he was secure in knowing that his memory would return in only a matter of days and then he would know for sure. He was patient; he could afford to wait.

* * *

"You evil..._witch_!" Ron spat at the woman, not even noticing when Harry and Draco excused themselves from them.

They had been arguing for the past few moments with insults piled on insults and even at one point, Midgen had her hands wrapped around bits of his robe, pushing him hard against the cold, cell wall. He had knocked her arms away, causing her fall, but she had quickly gotten up again and continued their fight.

"Is that all you have to say?" Eloise asked calmly, unfazed by Ron's words. "Resorting to the truth?"

"You're not even deny it?" the red-head blurted out before he could stop himself. He was just surprised she was admitting it.

She shrugged. "Why should I? I like being evil." She grinned evilly to prove her point. "And I am a witch."

"I don't understand you."

"I know, but I understand you. It's not as if you're very complicated." She smirked at the enraged expression on Ron's face. This was it, what she lived for! She loved seeing the angry look on his face, knowing it was she who infuriated him. Years of being friends with Draco had allowed her to prefect the skill of baiting Ron Weasley and it nice to finally be allowed to use it.

"I can't believe you're defending that child," Ron said revolted. "He's even worse now." Malfoy was just a pain. Being with him again, the twelve year old version was not a picnic and it just reminded him about how much he hated him back in then.

"But he's got more common sense than you, you little Weasel. What the hell did you expect?" Midgen asked. She then rolled her eyes when she realized that Ron had no idea what she was talking about. "You're pathetic."

"The feeling's mutual."

Midgen looked Ron up and down, her eyes unreadable, but Ron refused to squirm under her gaze; he would not give her that sort of satisfaction. 

"I'm sure it is," Midgen finally said, her eyes halting on his face. Moving, her feet took her around Ron who was still standing still, until she had completed one full circle around him. "Did you think it would be easy?"

Her soft voice surprised him; it wasn't something he would associated with the woman, not what he knew of her now.

He was sure his surprise had been reflected on his face, but Midgen didn't comment on it. He didn't answer, his mouth not sure how to.

"Did you think he would just accept everything you say without question?"

The blunt question had caught him off-guard and he for a split second he didn't know what to think. And then he flushed as he was guilty caught. That hadn't been exactly what he had been thinking, but it was close. He never really thought about it that way, had only delighted in how easy it had seemed.

When he didn't answer, Midgen had her answer and she just silently nodded. "Right, of course," she muttered, as if it should have been obvious. "That's not how he works, you know. You would have thought seven years of fighting with the man, you would have gotten to know some of his personality."

_How is that everything she says sounds as if she says to me is an insult?_ Ron wondered to himself. He scowled as he thought of the answer. _Because everything she says to me is an insult._ It was just so unfair. To be held to something he had done as a careless teenager was just wrong and the way Midgen had extracted her revenge over just a simple comment was sick. _And her nose was off-centered..._ He glanced at Midgen. _And it still is._ He had always found that odd of her. He knew she had been teased about her nose during fourth year, it wasn't just he who did it. With all of that, he would have thought that she'd gotten it fixed. But she never did.

He refused to answer, to dignify her with a response and turned away.

"Look Weasley," Midgen commanded, her voice rising up a notch. "I don't like you and I'm sure you don't like me." She ignored his snort of agreement and continued, "But you've got to admit, we're not getting any where with your petty bickering--"

"--_my petty bickering?!_" Ron screeched, the blood rushing to his face. "You-you-you--"

"See?" Midgen pointed out. "Here, I am, trying to extend a hand and you start again."

The self-sacrificing tone of voice she was using made him want to heave. But as much as he hated to admit it, she did have a point. Not about the petty bickering, but about how they weren't exactly going anywhere. Ron bit his tongue, trying to stop another insult. When he was sure he could manage at least a civil voice, he spoke. "You curb your attitude and I will, got it?"

She inclined her in agreement and Ron felt a rush of relief flowing through him. Now that they were on somewhat good speaking terms, he didn't know what to do. Awkwardly, he shifted around, his eyes roaming elsewhere. His eyes fell on Harry on the other side of the room and caught the odd smile on his face. _When did they go over there?_ "What the hell do you have to smile about?"

* * *

Feeling like he was out of place, Harry shifted positions. Draco had fallen silent a few minutes ago, sending their conversation into a standstill. He had watched the sitting man, knees held to his chest and head bowed backwards against the hard stone, exposing his luminous neck that seemed to radiate in the dim cell.

He could see the questions fly across his face, the yearning to ask, but not daring to and he wondered about that. What harm could there be from simple questions? It wasn't as if he wouldn't try and answer them for him. Draco was twelve years old, an innocent still of any wrong doing. He didn't deserve to have this done to him and God only knew what had happened to that boy. He shuddered to think that Draco had been in the hands of the Death Eaters for over four days before they had came to rescue him. Four days to have whatever depravities done to him. He remember finding bodies of friends, of other wizards and witches and of muggles after they had been caught by the Death Eaters. The vision of Dennis Creevey's body...

It had been a slight exaggeration to say that no one had ever gotten in Malos Island and before they had known about Draco Malfoy and his people, there had been Dennis Creevey, the first man that had been one of theirs to infiltrate the island. He remembered when news had gotten to him that Dennis had successfully insinuated himself on the island. He, Ron and Hermione had gone out to celebrate at a local pub, though he and Ron had hidden the true reason why they were celebrating from Hermione. Now, come to think of it, they probably didn't needed to -- she probably knew anyway and probably had known before they did.

Harry scowled, remembering the bombshell Hermione had dropped on him earlier that evening. _Was it only a few hours ago?_ he wondered. It had felt like an eternity had gone by instead of the mere hours.

Sometime, when this rescue had faded into the back of their mind as a mission gone wrong, he would have to deal with Hermione keeping the secret from him for so long. It had been what? _Eight, nine years?_ Nearly a decade! He understood the need for it, would have approved of it, he just wished he had been in on it. They were best friends after all and best friends don't keep secrets from their friends.

_Why am I wasting my time with thoughts of Hermione?_ he asked himself, wondering why he was suddenly so relaxed and complacent when they had been captured and probably about ready to meet certain doom. And from Crabbe's less than subtle hint, they had bigger things on their mind. _Voldemort,_ he thought with a growl. There was nothing more than what he would like to do than get rid of the man for good, in painful, _very painful_ ways, but he could risk a confrontation right now. Not when he had people depending on him. Ron, he could excuse, they had been through more scrapes and fights than he could count and he knew Ron could give as good as he got. Midgen, too, but he didn't like it. She may be their inside contact on this godforsaken island, but he didn't know if she could handle herself in a real situation. And when push comes to shove, he had to be sure he could count on every member of his team. But Draco, he was priority. Not only was he the person they had come to rescue, he was a child trapped in a man's body. A child. 

A child.

_God help me, but I wish Malfoy was here,_ he thought, truly wishing he had the older version of Malfoy here with him instead of the twelve year old. At least he was sure Malfoy could help get them out, could be a real asset to them all. This twelve year old one was nothing but baggage. And when they're going to running for their lives, they didn't need to be worrying about him every single second.

He was feeling slightly guilty that he was thinking of Draco as "nothing but baggage" when he was so much more. Inside that head of his held something important, he was sure of it. If he didn't, they would have just killed him, their side and his, instead of having him rescued.

It would have been so easy. That Eloise Midgen was here and that Dumbledore knew that she would be here, waiting for them spoke of how well-informed and connected Dumbledore was. He could have easily asked someone to kill Draco during a moment when no one was looking.

Or the Death Eaters would have eliminated Draco by now. That he was still standing in relatively good health was a testament to how much he was valued. The Death Eaters weren't exactly known for their good treatment of traitors. Death was inevitable when it came to them and more times than not, it was usually a welcomed release. 

So it stands to reason that whatever Draco was harboring in his mind was something of importance. The Muggle attack Dumbledore had spoken of didn't seem to quite cut it in his mind. It would be an important event, he was sure of, one that would merit some attention. The damage from one mishandled Muggle attack could mean doom to the Wizarding world as they knew it, something they were sure Voldemort would love to see happening, but why now? Why would Crabbe suddenly decide that this moment in time would be the right one to expose Draco? He had obviously known the blond was a spy for a very long time, why chose now of all times to expose him? Something must have been happening, something that both Crabbe and Draco knew about and that Crabbe couldn't afford to have Draco get out. _Wow,_ he thought. _An original idea by Vincent Crabbe._

He snuck a quick glance of Draco with his eyes glazed over, still lost in his own thoughts, wondering what it could be that was so important. _A new weapon? Another attack on the Base? Another purge?_ he thought, thinking of the Death Eater Purge of 2003 implement by Gregory Goyle. He had heard the story like everybody else, knew the rudiments of it, though Ron could probably tell you more about it in detail. _Hell, what I know of it was from Ron's ramblings..._ he thought with a content smile.

"What the hell do you have to smile about?" Ron's voice carried over the distance, reaching him and catching him off-guard. He hadn't noticed that Ron and Midgen had stopped their arguments and was standing, looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

Harry looked up, seeing the way both of them looked tense, their robes askew and their cheeks red. Looking at them, he fought the urge to laugh at the picture they made together. If hadn't had known better, he would have thought Ron and Midgen had just had an intense make out session instead of the heated argument. Their agitation towards each other could have been taken as embarrassment instead of disgust at their forced tolerance of each other and their out of place robes could have been the result of groping and touch, an urge to get closer together than the grabbing that they had done to make a point. And their red cheeks... If he hadn't had known that Ron was utterly devoted to Hermione and would never betray her trust in him and that Midgen was also utterly disgusted and hated Ron with a passion then he would have thought something would be found distasteful both by Midgen and Ron.

"Just thinking about the purge of 2003," Harry responded. "And how the only way I would even know about that story was because of you."

Ron fell silent, his mind mentally picking out the one particular Gregon story that had dealt with the purge. The purge had happened, that was never the question. But the story of Goyle being the one to betray the Gregon had come after, to explain the event. Next to him, Midgen scowled, her lips settling into revolted grimace as she too remembered that time.

"You remember it don't you, Ron?" Harry deliberately asked, casting an overt glance at Draco, trying to tell if he was listening. "It was said that the Grey Dragon had been betrayed by Gregory Goyle." There! A definite flicker of interest in Draco's eyes, even though the boy was trying to act as if he wasn't listening in. He hoped this would be enough for him. Earlier he had seen how much Draco had wanted to ask about the Grey Dragon. Maybe this way, he could get some of his curiosity satisfied...

"He was," Eloise said, walking towards them and sitting down in front of Harry. Then she smiled wickedly, the coldness in her eyes chilling Harry. "But Goyle didn't live long enough to gloat about it."

Feeling bereft standing all alone, Ron joined their group on the floor sitting next to Midgen and in front of Malfoy completing the circle. His hackles were raised, being in such close proximity to his enemies. _How did I end up between Midgen and Malfoy?_ he thought, thinking he should be the one near Harry. _So we've decided on show and tell?_ It was absurd, the way they were all sitting together, talking about a Gregon story of all things. But curiosity got the better of him and Midgen's offhanded remark about how Goyle didn't live long enough to gloat piqued his interest. The Grey Dragon had always been a soft spot for him... "What are you saying?" He winced at the rushed words that he hadn't meant to say.

"Let's just say Voldemort isn't the only one who doesn't tolerate traitors." The cold smile that accompanied her answer chilled the room, causing them to pause.

"What did I do?" The sick, pale look on Malfoy's face surprised Ron. He would have thought that this would have been just his cup of tea.

"You didn't do a thing, we did." Midgen grinned.

The relief on Draco's face seemed almost immediate, Harry noticed. As soon as Midgen assured him that he didn't have any part in the demise of Gregory Goyle, he start to gain a bit more color to his face. He would have missed it if he hadn't been watching him for his reaction.

"What do you mean?" Harry spoke up, trying to turn the conversation. "From the stories, Goyle betrayed some of the Gregon's people, causing one of the major purges in the Death Eater ranks, but disappeared before he could give the Gregon up."

"Gregon?" Draco's voice questioned, his voice louder and more confident this time.

"What they shortened your name to," Midgen explain, pulling a face.

Draco winced in response. _They butchered it!_

"And he didn't disappear. A few of us got together and had a little 'talk' with him. And then when he wasn't reasonable enough, we just...got rid of him," Eloise said with no trace of an emotion. It was as if she had been talking about the weather instead of someone's death.

_Is that what it does?_ Harry wondered, contemplating Eloise Midgen and her involvement with the Death Eaters. The slip of a girl she had been during their time at Hogwarts was nothing like the willowy woman here now. As far as he knew, Midgen had never been this cold.

Ron shuddered at her calm tone. He opened his mouth to say something, but the thought better of it. They had come to a truce after all.

"What happened t-to Greg?" Draco spoke up, clearing his throat in the process.

Midgen looked towards Draco, a small smile on her lips. "He was just...disenchanted, like Vinny. Couldn't see the point in the good fight any more, not when power was at his fingertips."

Harry shook his head. "I can't see Goyle as one of the 'good guys'."

"He wasn't always bad... He was loyal, a good friend, most of the time and he knew how get jobs done," Eloise praised, remembering the man Gregory Goyle had used to be. Then her face hardened. "But betraying Draco is something intolerable. He managed to get a good number of our people captured and killed. We had spent years building up our resistance. In the blink of an eye he had managed to send us back almost five years. We could never forgive that."

Soaking up every bit of what Midgen was say, Ron relished knowing the truth of the purge. He had never believed the story of the Grey Dragon's involvement of it. He had written it off to one of those people who loved to feature the Gregon in their stories, whether or not it was true. The problem had been Goyle. Goyle, the boy, the bully that had been in their year at Hogwarts who was practically a bodyguard of Malfoy had been so close and trusted to the Grey Dragon that he would have a chance to betray him. It was just unbelievable. But now...now he had the facts, but he was still finding it hard to believe Goyle had been a trusted member of Gregon's people. _And the fact that Malfoy is the Gregon!_ It just wasn't right; his heroes, the people he had looked up to... Malfoy...Midgen...Crabbe...Goyle...who knows who else? Pansy Parkinson, maybe? He grimaced at the thought of that girl also being a part of it, but with what he had found out tonight, he doubted that he would find it odd.

"That's why Crabbe has got to know his days on this earth is numbered. Even if we don't get out of this place alive, neither will he. He'll be hunted down and killed, no matter how long it takes," Eloise said with deadly certainty.

And silence filled the room.

* * *

She had turned in sometime after 3:30 A.M, convincing herself that she needed sleep after nodding off for what seemed like the fifth time and she found herself awakened sometime after four by a loud rapping at her bedroom window.

Slowly but surely, the methodical rapping punctured her subconscious and she gradually rose back into the land of the living, lifting her head from the comfort of her pillow. Sluggishly, Hermione pried her eyes open and cursed her bad luck. It had taken her forever to convince herself that she needed to sleep and now that she had finally dropped off, she's not allowed to.

She almost knew what it would be before she even got up and opened the window to let the poor bird in. Who else would send her a missive this early in the morning? 

It had been a toss up between Dumbledore and the Ministry, both of which seemed to know nothing of the concept of time. She was the same way, most of the time, except for the rare moments when she was sleeping, then it was all bets off.

It was a standard owl, typical of the Ministry. Hermione released the owl of its letter, thinking that it was rather archaic of the Ministry to rely on the Owl Post when a phone call would be more effective. _But,_ she thought. _I doubt I would have welcomed either intrusion._

She quickly scanned the letter, clutching at it tighter as the words sunk in. Without further delay she had her wand out and with a half mumbled spell, changed into the necessary clothing. The letter in her hand fell down to the floor in the rush to get out, forgotten as fluttered. 

The door of the flat snapped shut in a definite thud as she swept out of there.

* * *

_December 15, 2002_

Ms. Granger

Please report to the corner of fifth and Wyatt. A portkey has been set up for your convenience and it will take you directly to the Muggle town of Evansville.

It is my regret to inform you that Evansville is no longer standing. It has been attacked by a group of Death Eaters earlier this morning and the causalities are severe. The damages should this attack get out will be incomprehensible and please take charge of the situation when you arrive. Our people are already there, minimizing the damage.

Zerina Vanier

* * *

"Dear God," Hermione breathed, her very first thought as she stared at the burning town. Flames were leaping on top of each other, flickering and jumping; the buildings were either charred or in pieces, chunks of ruble littering the ground and streets. Automobiles overturned and thrown about looking as if a tiny child had had a field day playing Crash! with them. And the bodies... "Dear God," Hermione whispered again, her eyes falling on a mangled woman, her clothes torn off and her face forever to be fixed with a look of horror.

As soon as the initial shock had worn off, Hermione felt fury flowing through her body. This had been the sixth such attack on Muggles in the last year and as far as she was concerned it was too many. "Shit!" she cursed, not regretting it one bit as she spied the haunting calling card of the Dark Lord grinning down on her.

Holding her hair to her head, she stalked closer to the group of people in the side of the town, the flames already extinguished in that area.

"Hermione!"

Surprised, Hermione clasped hands with the woman. "Ginny! What are you doing here?"

"I'm heading up the site... My God Hermione, it's been a long time!" 

"Yes it has," Hermione answered curtly, not wanting to broach the subject. "What can you tell me about this?"

Hearing the authoritative tone of voice in her sister-in-law, Ginny immediately straightened and went into a brisk report. "Seven Death Eaters descend on the town around one A.M this morning, making little work of destroying the town and killing the people of Evansville."

Ginny led the way towards the heart of the town, showing Hermione the full damage. 

"Population?" Hermione asked.

"128, over a hundred of which have been killed as of this moment. About half were killed out right, a few more from injuries sustained and the others from the fires. Those who escaped with minor injuries are being treated and their memories of the event changed. We're hoping the haze in their memories would be attributed to Post Traumatic Stress as it often is."

Hermione nodded. "Have the Muggle Press gotten a hold of this?"

"No," Ginny spoke. "The town of Evansville has been shielded from Muggle entry and view even since we've arrived. It's been effectively cut off from the rest of the world."

"Good," Hermione approved. "The fires?"

"They're being attended to, but it will take a few more minutes before they are fully extinguished." Ginny paused, halting her steps. "Can I ask you a question?"

Faltering, Hermione was a bit slow to answer the unexpected question. "Go ahead."

"How could this happen?"

The hoarse whisper had her concerned and she stepped closer, holding Ginny's arm in comfort. She tried to smile, but failed. "We can't stop all of them," she answered honesty. "All we can do is make the best of it and make sure the Muggles never really knows what happens."

Ginny shook her head in sadness. "I don't envy you Hermione; always having to deal with this."

Hermione gazed on the town, the fire waving around, leaving nothing but chard remains, wizards and witches yelling, trying to contain the flames and they trying to do several things at once. As she watched the scene -- wizards holding small children, witches leading scared women and men to safety and the ever present Dark Mark grinning owlishly down on her, she thought to herself, _Neither do I._

* * *

Oscar fidgeted, pacing around his temporary room, wiping his sweaty hands on the sides of his robe. "Oh dead, oh dear, oh dear," he chanted and he paced. "Oh God, oh God, oh God..." he moaned.

His thoughts were all a disarray but every one of them were saying _This was bad._ It was. It was a catastrophe! 

The Grey Dragon, captured!

Normally if this had happened, he would have left everything to Eloise because she would have known what to do, but she was captured as well!

All was not good.

Now, Draco had specific instructions of what to do if this should ever happen and had made everyone in his ranks aware of them. Number one, don't attempt rescue yourself. Number two, contact Dumbledore who would dispatch Harry Potter and Ron Weasley and they would get Draco out of what ever bind he was in. But even he didn't foresee that Potter and Weasley might...fail.

So what to do now? They had the Grey Dragon, they had Eloise, they even had the Boy Who Lived and his partner... _All they needed was Weasley's wife and the group would be complete!_ Oscar thought hysterically.

_This is bad, this is bad, this is bad..._ he repeated, the only thing on his mind was how bad it really was. 

He had to do something.

_No!_ his mind screamed at him for even suggesting it. _Think of your health, your life, your future because if you go down this foolhardy path you won't have any of them!_ He wrung his hands, indecision apparent on every part of his person. He had do something -- it was his obligation as the only other person on the island who could do anything to help.

_Oh God,_ he moaned to himself, stopping abruptly near the bed and throwing him on it. _Whatever happened to the easy assignment Draco promised me? Watch Crabbe, report back...it seemed to be so harmless..._ How could he had known that the assignment he had taken three years ago would end up with he risking his life? He groaned, closing his eyes. He had to do something, it was expect of him... And he owed Draco to at least try.

_Well,_ he spoke to himself. _If you are going to go along with this foolish plan, then you have to do it soon. You-Know-Who will be paying a visit soon and it would not be prudent to be caught while He's here..._

He had to think. Something quick and simple that wouldn't get him killed. It sounds so easy, but actually think of something...

Hardening his resolve, he devised a relatively safe thing he could do to help. It was the very least he could do.

A knock at the door roused him from his thoughts. Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat, hoping to mask his anxiety for a moment. "Yes?" he called out tentatively, swing his legs over the side of the bed so that he was sitting. He smooth out his robe and tugged at his hair, trying to look presentable.

The door opened and a man popped his head in. Oscar recognized him as one of the regulars posted on the island. "Crabbe wants to see you, sir. He's in the main gathering rooms."

Oscar steeled his face and nodded once to acknowledge the man and then waved him off. The other man left without question and Oscar sighed in relief. _A summons._ That he could handle.

He turned on his side, looking at the framed photograph on the bedside table. Unwittingly, he smiled at the young boy pictured, maybe seven or eight years old. He grabbed the frame, holding in both his hands as he gazed down on the happy boy waving to him. He brought a hand to touch the cold, glass surface; it was as far as he could come to touching his son. "For you," he whispered, tracing the outline of the boy's face. Oscar gave him a small smile and he smiled in turn. The tiny, innocent way his son smile twisted in him, reminding him that he loathed being away from the only person on this world that mattered to him. 

With reluctance, he replaced the photograph back with loving care, turning it so that the face was facing the bed. 

He stood up, pushing himself up from the bed. He heard his spine popping back into place was reminded that he was not so young anymore. Running hand through his hair, he walked out of the room with feigned confidence. Crabbe shouldn't be kept waiting.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Oscar approached the man, standing in one of the Manor's large leisure rooms.

Crabbe looked up and Oscar suppressed the urge to shudder as he often did whenever he gets a glimpse of Crabbe's eyes. They were so empty and lifeless and just about the only time he actually saw something other than coldness in those depths was when they had destroyed something worthwhile.

"Yes. The Dark Lord will be arriving within the hour and I want you to make sure everything is ready for His arrival."

"Of course," he managed. _So soon? Damn!_ He had hoped he would have more time to think his plan out, or at least more than to put it off. 

"I want you to instruct the people here, they will show Him the correct humility and respect our Lord deserves," Crabbe continued.

His heart started to race. What he was suggesting would take too much time! "Are you sure? I mean, maybe someone here, like Harris, who has more familiarity with the people, should be the one--" he bumbled, reaching for excuses when he caught Crabbe's eye and stopped. "Right, of course sir," Oscar amended hastily. Though Crabbe didn't speak, he understood what he had been trying to say. He was Crabbe's assistant and Crabbe was a higher authority than any one here. If anything, they followed a chain of command and each knew their place. _So do I,_ Oscar thought, excusing himself.

Just as he was about to leave the room, Crabbe called to him again. Oscar paused, turning around.

"I thought you might like to know. Our people has conducted a successful attack this night," Crabbe informed, his lips curving in a smile. 

"That's great," he tried to say impassioned but failing. Crabbe paid him no attention, relieving him a great deal. "The Singapore one?" It had been the only attack he had been informed of.

"No, that was never meant to be executed," Crabbe told him. "The one I'm talking about was Evansville in Northern England."

Oscar froze. _Evansville? Oh God...Matt..._ "Evansville," he whispered, dazed. 

"Yes." Crabbe turned away. "I've been told it was very successful."

"Very successful..." Oscar repeated, left standing alone.

"A complete destruction of the town," Crabbe continued. 

Matt? His mouth tingled to ask about the survivors...if there were any, but he couldn't trust himself to speak and not start yelling incomprehensible nonsense as he broke down.

"You may go," Crabbe dismissed, already not paying him any more attention.

Struck dumb, Oscar could only nod and make his way out.

* * *

A/N: Hi! I'm back! A nice long chapter to make up for the stupid one that time. I hope you like, but I personally found it a tad boring. What else to say? Um, thanks to all the people who reviewed and mucho gracias to Kara who was a big help and to my beta Red Dragons Order (go read her stories!) for a great job as always. All mistakes of course are mine.

**Youko Gingitsune:** Yes, it was shorter by about 4 pages. Hope this extra long one makes up for it!

**Enid:** We all suffered when ff.net was down... But something came of it for me. I got into Angel/Spike slash and that was very nice. It was something to pass away the time as I was deprived of my Harry/Draco stories. Thanks for reviewing!

**portuguese_girl:** Thanks! Creative in Action and Adventure? That's a first for me. Personally, I think this story has been very slow in action and adventure... A movie producer? Hmm... Too bad I'm commited to being a doctor... Grown up Draco will be so much fun to write! I hope he shows up soon, but I think he's hiding from me... If you ask me, he's holding Harry captive in a closet somewhere... It is taking way too long to get to any sort of slash, I totally agree. I hate it too because I wanna write hardcore slash! All my previous works have always hinted...

**Tsuyuno:** You reviewed every single chapter?! Are you nuts?! Not that I don't love it! It's so sweet of you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! And you sent me an email review too! You are too sweet! I had almost forgotten I sent this to PSA... I thought I might not get in since she was looking for other than H/D pairings, but I got in! Yay!

I don't think Ron will ever get off Malfoy's case...ever. Ron's just not like that...at least not yet... *g* And you're right, it was uncharacteristic of Draco to go to Dumbledore, but I assure you, it wasn't a hasty decision. Malfoy's got his own agenda and Dumbledore is just one stepping stone in order to achieve it.

Hey, I'm not saying Draco hasn't done so very very very bad things... Some of Ron's hate is well founded. But I'm also saying Draco is also going some good as well... And no, I don't know what a pooka is... Wasn't Anastasia's dog named Pooka?

LOL! Midgen is that sort of twisted girl. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And about Eloise, you saw it in this chapter... And Draco only has two more days...

Ugh! I knew the stutterings too much! I didn't like it and I don't know what I'm thinking!

**Zipporah:** Thanks! That's such a great compliment! Thank you! I don't like the cliffhangers much myself, but I'm glad they are doing their purpose... Stuttering, as I said above I hate, but I kept it in this chapter because it was started in the last. It's disappering now... And I totally agree with you about Ron and Eloise. I lost my hold on them and you can see it seeping into this chapter as well... They are so annoying aren't they? I just can't seem to get to them get along... Every time I try, they just start yelling again and I don't know what to do. I had a talk with them. They promised not to always react like water in hot oil but they can't promise to always be nice. I just hope this small truce will last... And thank you so much for my first piece of constructive criticism! 

**Youko Gingitsune:** Didn't you already review once? Anyway, thanks again and I hope this chapter answered your question.

**Tionne:** It's okay, I still think the stutter was a bad idea on my part... I might wipe it out in an edit later on... Draco knows because he is that kinda a guy. At least mine is. Methodical, precise, intelligent, that's what I see Draco as. It's only fitting for him to have thought this up as a child and then have him become it as an adult. Thank you for reviewing!

Last notes: Last chapter I said I was going to not have slash until Draco is "back" for moral grounds. I'm most likely going to have some hints (lust works at such young ages...) but for any sort of relationship, that's going to be when Draco is 27 again. I think I might break my story up into at least two parts, one for the island and the other for the relationship. *smiles* I wouldn't blame any of you that want to leave and come back for part 2 only. 

Okay, that's it. I hope this chapter satisfies you and hope you review! Please review! Bye!


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

"Oooohhh," Hermione moaned, rubbing her hands at her temple. The blinding headache just wouldn't seem to quit. Somehow she knew it was attributed to the hours she didn't spend sleeping. But such was the life she led -- she was lucky if she had one day in a week with enough sleep under her belt.

The throbbing wouldn't leave her so she was left with no choice but to ignore it. _If only that was as easy as it sounds_, Hermione muttered in her head. It was easier said than done. 

She looked down at the pile of work placed on her desk all in a disarray. Normally, she didn't tolerate disorder, but ever since she had started this particular job... She had found that the mess was more orderly than any of her specified filing could ever be. There was order in disorder, which was an oxymoron if she had ever heard one.

Just looking at the number of briefs, of reports and of depositions she had to look over made her want to cringe and hide. When she had first started, she never knew just how much paperwork was needed. Her earlier jobs, while rising up through the ranks held some amounts of paperwork she had to oversee, but this one...It was just ridiculous. _And time consuming_, she thought despondently.

She didn't want to do it; wanted to put it off to another day. But her experiences with this sort of thing was the longer you put it off, the more lives that could be lost so she usually made herself work at it, no matter what. If not her, then usually one of her staff. Someone was always on duty.

But tonight...

Hermione couldn't get the smell of burnt human flesh out of her nostrils, she was bathed in the smell from the smoke and the destruction she had viewed earlier. Flashes of memories flickered in her mind, reminding her why she needed to get this done. 

She knew who had attacked Evansville this morning, knew it to an almost certainty. And she wouldn't, _couldn't_ let those bastards off without showing that her people didn't tolerate acts of terrorism. She would find out why and then she would propose a counter-attack. It was current policy not to retaliate but she was not going to let the Ministry sleep until they did something about this latest attack.

Too many had happened, too many they had tried to cover up and too many had they let slide. They had watched as innocents were slaughtered, families torn apart and yet they had done nothing. The Gregon had tried to do something -- it was what Hermione admired most about Draco Malfoy. While others were running around secret, talking about actions they never meant to carry out, he was out there, doing something.

His motivations, were well talked about by those who knew who he was and by those who don't. The common theory by those who don't was that he was doing just because it was right and just. And those who did knew who he was, thought he was trying to knock off the Dark Lord so he could move into position of power himself. He had already killed his father, didn't he? If he could do that, what wouldn't he stop at? 

It didn't matter that those rumors of Malfoy killing his father was only just that -- rumors. Nothing substantiated or proven, but was still accepted as fact. 

What Hermione thought of those people -- both who knew and didn't -- was that they are either very blind or very stupid. Malfoy, doing something right and just out of the goodness of his heart? Please! When she thought of Malfoy, the word altruistic didn't pop in her mind; it didn't even blimp on the very edge of her thoughts. 

And the theory that he was trying to become the new Voldemort was also pure rubbish. She might not know Draco as well as she would have liked, but any person spending any amount of time with him would have known that world domination was never in his plans.

Hermione wasn't sure why Draco was doing what he was doing. She wasn't even certain if Draco knew what he was doing. But that doesn't matter, at least not at the present. He was doing good -- for the most part -- and they needed a few more people out there like him. People who were making a difference.

Sometimes she would wonder if she was one of those people. She was no longer in the thick of the action; that was left to the mavericks like her husband and Harry. She was the nameless face who made sure no one ever knew what truly happened, the one who fiddled with the strings of the key players so that they would do what she had planned for them. Was that as important as those who went out and did something? 

She sighed. Now wasn't the time to be thinking of such things, but she found that the melancholy was setting in on her more quickly then ever. It was times like that when she had a moral dilemma that she hated her life. Most of the time she knew she was doing something good, something necessary, but at other times... Those were the thoughts that kept her late up at night, unsure for the future.

Forcing herself away from her thoughts, she looked down at the folder in front of her. It was the main agent's report of the attack at Evansville. While she had been in charge of damage control, she hadn't been the principal agent on the scene. 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione flipped open the folder. Inside were photographs -- Muggle ones, not Wizard ones. They had found that it wasn't exactly humane to trap those in the photos to an existence of death and agony for so long as the picture existed. Also there were some human emotional drawbacks as well. For some reason, Wizard psychologists had found that it was detrimental for people to watch people they didn't know suffering to death. Either way, they had converted to Muggle photography. Though it was a bit more cumbersome, they tried to work around it.

The photographs were clipped on the pages of paper on the attack. Hermione skimmed through the report, trying to pick out the main points. Most of the information were things she had already surmised, but a few bits of information enlightened her. Such as the pattern of destruction. It seemed as though the Death Eaters were looking for something specific -- what the agent didn't speculate. But whatever it was, it was enough for the Death Eaters to decimate an entire town for. 

That was enough for her to fuel her resolution to find out what this thing was. If it was that important, then she needed to know about. 

Things were going to get a lot harder from now on, she realized that. No longer did she have someone to go in times of need. Draco Malfoy was out and worse than that, he was currently unavailable and clueless. But once he was out and safe, she knew it would be better. The sooner that happened, the sooner the rest of the world could breath easier.

It was times like this that made her wonder if the inhabitants of this earth knew of the people who tried to make sure there was a tomorrow to wake up to. If they knew the knights of darkness who fought on their behalf, without recognition or reward. They were the faceless entities who tried their best and when they couldn't follow through, were led out to slaughter. None of them could ever comprehend people like Draco Malfoy. _Or me_, Hermione thought with a grim certainty. She had never meant to become one of those people, fates and circumstances just seemed to come together for her to take residence on the other side. If she failed, she would be on the chopping block. If she succeed... Even if she succeeded, there would be no "well done" or "good job". But that didn't matter. She didn't need platitudes. Besides, if people knew who she was and what she did, then she did fail. 

Hermione was meant to be the faceless nobody that everyone depended on but never would know she was there.

Just as Draco was.

* * *

They had drifted apart after a bit, each of them uncomfortable with the others. They were never meant to be a "group". That would have implied that they were meant to be tied together. Instead, they were more like individuals, tied together in a mistake of destiny. Even Harry and Ron didn't gravitate towards each other this time when they were separating. Each were left to their own devices.

Midgen paced around, inactivity not settling well with her. If Harry was honest with himself, neither was he. The nothing of everything was finally getting to him. He was unarmed, locked up in what was supposed to be one of the most secure facilities in the world and almost totally helpless. That never sit well with him and with a glance over to where Ron was tapping his thigh, he could tell his red-haired friend most likely would agree with him.

Draco... Harry ventured a glance at the blonde boy. He was still sitting in the same place, his head bent as he contemplated the stone floor. Why Harry didn't have the faintest idea because he had seen that floor from his point of view; nothing of interest there. 

He wasn't sure how the boy was doing; he had been rather closed mouthed ever since they had drifted apart. But the cell wasn't that large and there weren't that many places to go. Draco just rooted himself to his spot and never tried to leave. 

Harry wondered what Draco could be thinking of. How things were different? How things were? His father maybe? He winced at the last one. He had heard the story, just like everybody else about how the elder Malfoy had died. Or rather at whose hands.

But did Draco know? 

Harry shook his head in answer to his own question. That was stupid question. Of course he didn't know. How could he? It was after his time. _Now_, Harry wondered. _Do I tell the boy?_ He wanted to, he really did. Would love to tell Draco that little tidbit of information, see is face when he realizes what his future self did and to his own father. To anyone else, it would have been forgivable, but to his father... 

And he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't. He wasn't that sort of person, no matter what he tried to tell himself. Ron however, would be different. If he had thought of it, Harry was sure he would try it on the boy. He had never really let go of his anger over their old childhood enemy.

"I can't take this!" Midgen growled, throwing her head up to snarl her frustration. "It's been hours! If they are going to do something, they should have done it by now!"

Harry had no response. What could he say? Inwardly he agreed with the girl, but an agreement couldn't help them.

"We have to something...anything," Midgen spoke, half to herself. "Sitting here twiddling our thumbs isn't getting us anywhere."

"Who's twiddling?" Ron spoke up.

Midgen sent daggers at him, but Ron refused to cower. "Excuse me, tapping in your case." She snorted. "Besides, it's not like you two are doing anything to help. Some heroes you two are."

"What can we do?" Ron rejoined. "If you haven't noticed, we're a bit...I don't know, defenseless? We don't even have our wands."

"We could at least be planning. Unlike some people, I don't like riding on the seat of my pants, especially when my life is held in the balance."

Harry regarded the two of them warily. How easy it seemed for them to fall back on earlier standings. _And they seemed to have formed a tentative trust earlier too..._ "We need to get out and back on the boat. Reynard will be waiting for us but only up a point."

"And we need to get out of here before boy wonder over there gets his memories back," Ron added. "Can't have all those precious secrets falling--" He stopped abruptly as his eyes grew wide. "Hey!" He whirled on Midgen, startling her a bit. "What about you?" he asked suspiciously.

"What about me?" she asked cautiously, her eyes narrowing.

"I mean what about you! You must know something," Ron said as he advanced on the woman. "From what I've been hearing, you're pretty close to Malfoy. Close enough to know things that are very valuable to V-Voldemort." He was almost unable to suppress the shudder that traveled through his body.

Realization lit Harry's eyes as he started to comprehend what Ron was getting at. A look around the cell told him, so did everybody else. Draco, who had looked up at the commotion was now observing the scene with veiled eyes. And Midgen was visibly clamming up.

"Maybe," she replied vaguely. "So what of it?"

"If you know something, then why haven't they come for you yet?" Harry asked, walking towards the two of them. "And if they had tortured you, you wouldn't exactly be able to stop yourself..."

Midgen turned her head to look at Harry, disgust and contempt evident on her face. "You think I'll give Draco up?" she spat, looking down at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Not really since they already have him, but there are other things that only you and Draco know."

Her eyes couldn't hide the incredulous light that lurked behind them even as it started to set in. Harry could see the realization, the horror that was reflected from that realization and finally it turned to anger. _But not at herself_, he observed. No, it was directed at him.

For once, he wasn't mystified by his actions. What he told Midgen was the truth, whether she believed it or not was irrelevant. It was still true and it could happen. That's why it was better to acknowledge it, try to plan for it now rather than be surprised by it later. If they were aware of their weakness, then they could work to enforce them.

Midgen snorted. "You have no idea what you are talking about. I could never betray Draco. He's my life."

Harry ignored the last few words -- he really didn't want to know what she meant by them and strived on, "Even so, you're at risk."

The side of her mouth started to curl upward in a half smile. _Half smirk_, Harry corrected himself. There was nothing nice in that smile; it was pure arrogance and scorn. And there was something in her eyes that gave him pause...

She didn't say a thing and for a moment, the four of them were locked in silence. Ron and Draco weren't in the conversation to begin with and it didn't seem like either was contemplating on joining any time soon. And Harry still couldn't place that half smirk of Midgen's. There was something there, underneath all that bravado, he was sure of it.

He eventually looked away, turning so that that he could see the door. For a short moment, he assessed it before turning his head away. There was no escape there. They would have to either find someway to rush out when people on the other side open it or open it themselves, which they could not do since they were wandless.

Harry fought the urge to scream at the uselessness of the situation. _Why in the hell did I agree to this mission in the first place? Oh yeah, I was trying to do some good... Save the Gregon and all that... Should have turned the other way when I heard it involved Malfoy..._ he spoke to himself, carrying an inner monologue.

And now he was stuck. He was locked in a dungeon on an island that who knows where. Not only that, he was stuck with a girl who he was beginning to think he had serious mental problems and a definite attitude problem and a man who was his worst enemy -- with the exception of Voldemort of course, but Voldemort couldn't really be put on the same scale as normal evil enemies -- who wasn't an enemy after all and had been reduced to the tender age of twelve. _Could life get any better?_ he asked himself, looking up for guidance.

"We need to figure a way out of this place," Ron finally spoke up.

"You don't say?" 

Looking up in surprise, Harry raised his eyes at the blonde boy who had just spoken. For almost an hour, Draco hadn't have spoken a word and his first words since then are to goad Ron?

_Would be typical of him_, Harry thought, glad to have this little bit of normalcy. Malfoy being Malfoy was infinitely better than Malfoy behaving like Draco. _And a lot more easier to reconcile._

Ron barely spared Draco a glance, trying to ignore him completely. But Ron had never been able to ignore Draco; even in his state now, the boy still had it in him. "The Dark Lord is going to be walking through those doors any minute now -- I suggest we plan quickly."

"And what do you expect us to do? Lunge at him and pelt him with our fists?" Draco countered, standing up. He used his hand to brace himself as he pushed up the wall. For a moment it looked as if the was going to sway, and Harry took a step to help him but then he righted himself. "We're a bit...I don't know...weaponless?"

"That's better than just letting him win," Ron argued. "You may be the Gregon and have all these secrets that you have to keep to yourself that you would even erase your memory but Harry does too and unlike you, he doesn't have the Forgitius potion. We can't risk him."

"Forgitius potion?"

"The potion that's erased your memories," Harry clarified for Draco.

"A potion did it." Draco frowned. He looked up. "This will wear off?"

"In seven days," Ron supplied. "Don't worry Malfoy. You'll be back to your...charming self in two days."

Harry saw Draco exhale softly at the information. He could imagine how relieved he must feel. "From what I hear, Snape concocted it."

"Actually," Midgen broke in the conversation. "You and Snape both collaborated on it."

"Me?" Draco echoed in disbelief. He turned his questioning eyes to Harry but he was at a lost. Dumbledore had never mentioned that fact.

Midgen nodded. "That's right. It was your idea and you enlisted Severus to help. It took you four years to refine the formula but you finally got it in use a while back. But not many people have the potion -- besides you, I'm not even aware of any others."

"You don't have one?" Harry asked, surprised by the fact that one, she didn't have the potion herself with her being in such a position and by how easily she used Snape's name.

Midgen laughed. "I wish," she said under her breath, but Harry heard her. "No," she answered a bit louder. "No I don't."

Harry nodded at this new bit of information and saved it for later. _Interesting..._ he thought. It was interesting that someone like Midgen wouldn't have a little capsule of the potion for herself. Looking at her speculatively, he guessed that she probably had the cyanide one. If she was as loyal to Draco as she said she was, Harry didn't doubt that in the next few hours to come -- if they aren't able to escape -- they would have a dead body on their hands.

And he couldn't allow that; not on his watch. Which was why they had to get out and soon. He didn't have to be worrying about Reynard; he would be waiting in the appointed place at the right time, even though they had missed the first pickup. But there would be other times. They had until tomorrow or then they really would be stranded on the island.

Harry licked his lips, trying to think. "The next time that door opens, it'll be Voldemort."

Ron winced at the thought of the Dark Lord strolling in, seeing his long enemy caught in a trap. "We can't have that."

"Voldemort?" Draco asked, his voice incredulous. "He's coming...here?" he squeaked at the last word. 

_He didn't know_, Harry realized. He took a deep breath as he decided to broach the topic lightly. 

But before he could even say a word, Ron laughed caustically. 

"You can say that, kid. Did you think he's going to miss this? The Gregon and Harry Potter, all tied up, ready for him to do what he will..." Ron smiled ruefully. 

Although he didn't like the thought of You-Know-Who appearing and most likely leading to another bout of painful tortures he would rather not experience, Draco was also irked at the way Weasley just called him _kid_. He glared at the insult, his mouth curling in a disgusted grimace. He was never a kid.

It had been long enough, he decided. It was time to get back to his own skin. No matter what, he was still a Malfoy and it was time he acted like it. The past few hours -- hell, the past few days he hadn't been himself.

Granted, waking up disoriented and then tortured and neglect for days. That added with the shock of finding that he wasn't who he was supposed to be and then finding out it was he wasn't supposed to be -- it was a shock. _And I'm entitled to freak_, he told himself. But if the Dark Lord was going to make an appearance, then he's not going to act like a sniveling fool who was at a lost for words most of the time. It wasn't like him to be so damn quiet...

"Fuck," he whispered to himself. This was really screwed up in his opinion. He saw the eyes of Harry on him at his expletive and stared right back. Don't tell me I don't even curse now... he thought to himself in horror. While he usually didn't swear -- _sometimes_, he admitted to himself, but boys were boys -- he did occasionally. Draco stared right back at Harry and when the other refused to back down, it reminded him of the Potty he knew. "What?" he asked annoyed, feeling the surge of Malfoyness returning to him. 

"You swore."

Even more confused now, Draco laughed. "So?"

Harry shrugged. "You're twelve."

"Again, so?" Draco asked impetuously.

"You're twelve," Harry repeated slowly, as if he thought the blonde hadn't have gotten it the first time.

Annoyed, Draco stared at the other man. _Was Potter always this dense or was did he grow even more stupider with age?_ He was pleased by the spur of the moment thought. If anything was an indication of him getting his bearings back, an insult to Potter was the thing. "Yeah," he slowly agreed, nodding for his benefit. "But technically, I'm...27?"

Harry shut up, something Draco was infinitely grateful for. That and he looked away. There was something in the way the guy looked at him; made him want to shiver at the intensity of it. 

Ron had been observing this encounter with the same thing as Draco did -- with confusion. This man who was talking and interacting with Malfoy was not his friend. Ron moved away from the wall he leaning on and moved over to Harry. 

"What the hell was that about?"

Harry looked up at his friend. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Nothing," he muttered. 

"Nothing?" His skeptical voice betrayed his true thoughts. "Harry..." he began.

"It's nothing," Harry reiterated. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "The boy's twelve," he said, as though Ron should know what he was talking about.

"So?" 

Harry groaned. Ron couldn't get it either. "Twelve, Ron. _Twelve_. Do you think he should be swearing like that?"

Ron shrugged. "So? We swore when we were twel--" Only one syllable left and Ron paused right in the middle of it. He closed his mouth and then his eyelids fell. They opened a moment later when he looked up towards the ceiling. "I cannot believe I was just defending the little brat."

Harry chuckled. "Don't feel so bad Ron," he consoled, patting Ron's arm lightly. 

Yanking his hand away, Ron glared at Harry, trying to get that dancing look out of his eyes. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered.

"He's twelve -- long before he did anything terrible," Harry tried again.

"Hah!" he scoffed. "Are you getting old or just selective? Malfoy was the bane of our existence."

"For you maybe," a new voice interjected.

"Midgen," Ron said with a flat tone. "Did we ask you?"

"No, but I'm going to talk anyway. There's no way you can stop me." The girl smirked.

Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Haven't you resolved this?" he asked tiredly.

"No," they echoed as one. 

_And they manage to agree on that_, he thought. 

Draco by that time had joined them. "Shouldn't you be trying to find a way to get me out of here? Because having first hand experience, I know staying here and getting _tortured _

"He's right," Midgen agreed immediately. "We need to assume the next person walking through that door is Voldemort."

"Why Voldemort?" Ron questioned.

"Because he's the next logical choice," Midgen responded. "Vinny isn't exactly the smartest bloke in the world."

Ron stared at her as if she had grown another head. "You've lost me."

Even Harry was feeling a bit intolerant as he knew Midgen was probably be feeling from the look on her face. "Think back Ron. _Special Visitor_? Ring a bell?"

The light in Ron's eye lit up as he realized what they were talking about. And then he reddened. 

A sharp laugh startled them. They all turned to face Draco who was smirking. Ron reddened even further, but this time, the red was in his eyes rather than his cheeks. Alarmed, Harry reached out to restrain his friend before he did bodily harm to the boy, which he was sure Ron would love to have to chance to do.

"Let me go," Ron growled, struggling against Harry's body that was blocking his way. He glared at the man who was standing there, open and grinning widely and that only made his anger intensify. "I'll kill him."

Draco laughed again. "I'll like to see you try. Even as I am now, I will always be better than a _Weasley_."

A loud rumble started in his chest and make its way up Ron's throat. He fought the urge to roar at the stupid boy. He knew the man Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, but when he looked at him, all he could see was the boy.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Harry urged. "You don't have to be so volatile." He shot Draco a glance behind him, warning him to back off. "Don't you see this is exactly as he wants?"

"Let him!"

"Cowering behind Potty, Weasel? _Typical_." He scoffed the last word as an insult. 

Harry spun around at this, but his body was still trying to fend off Ron. "Stop it!" he snapped. "Quit provoking him or I will let him at you!" Draco blanched at the thought and moved a bit away. 

Pushing Ron away, Harry faced the others. "We are not going to get anything done if we keep on fighting like that."

"Speak for yourself," Midgen muttered. "I'm not the one wanting to attack a twelve year old boy."

"And he's not the one doing all the provoking!" Harry hissed. "And if you want your precious Draco out of his hellhole then I suggest the two of you shut up and work with me here!" 

Draco sullenly dropped down the wall to the floor, glaring up at him, but silent. Midgen took a bit longer to accede, but finally she back down. But what her body said, her eyes betrayed, fire roaring as the flame grew large and larger.

He didn't trust that girl and Draco, despite his better thoughts, he was starting to. What could a twelve year old do anyway? He was twice as old as him mentally and the boy was a stranger even in his own body. That wouldn't be much of a challenge of overcome if need be. But Midgen...Not only was the woman a wild card -- and in his opinion, a very wild card -- she had clearly stated that her loyalty is to Draco and not him. That coupled with her hate of Ron -- which he to this day couldn't figure out -- would cause problems.

Ron knew though. He could hear it in between the words they said together. While he might not be able to understand it, he knew it was there. Ron had done something. It had to have been back when they were in Hogwarts though. He didn't remember much of the shy, out of sight Hufflepuff, but what he did of her, Harry knew this wasn't the person she saw back then. The woman standing there now was consumed by hate. He had seen it in other people before, usually victim's of Voldemort or had watched Voldemort slaughter their friends and their family while they had survived. 

"None of us is going to get out alive if we don't work together." He gave them a sweeping glance, hitting each of them in the eyes trying to make them understand. 

"Fine," Midgen bit out. "Just don't expect me to like this."

"I don't," Harry snapped. "Just that you cooperate. I want to get out of here as much as you do."

Eloise moved until she was next Draco and fell into the space next to him. She turned to him, expecting him to move away, but he didn't. 

She could only barely hide her grin from that small act. Only a few hours ago, he was shirking away. Now, he tolerated her. It was small improvement, but one none the same and that was what mattered. 

"I want to kill him," she muttered, hoping to incite a reaction. Normally she wouldn't have dreamed of doing something like this as it was too open and a bit too insightful for the likes of her, but she need something, anything to tie Draco to her. He had to know she was there for him and his best interest.

"Me too." The words were out of his mouth, agreeing with her before he knew it. Surprised in part by what he had just said and what she had said, Draco turned to look at the woman next to him. "You're really a Hufflepuff?" he asked in disbelief.

Eloise shrugged. "I would have made a great Slytherin I think, but yeah, I was."

"If it helps, I think you would have fit in with us," Draco offered. 

Swallowing hard, it took Eloise a moment to formulate a response. "It...it does," she spoke, speaking around the lump in her throat.

Draco nodded, content with that. 

"Listen, I know you don't remember, but a bit of you must understand. That's just the way you are. If we get out of here, Potter...Potter will be the one to do it, so you should trust him."

Draco didn't answer, but Eloise knew he had heard. Thirteen years with him had made her an expert on Draco attitudes. Satisfied by that, she got up and left him. 

She ambled her way to Weasley and Potter who brainstorming on different strategies to get out. 

"That won't work," she commented on Potter's idea of force by rushing at the next person who came in the door. "It's practically policy not to visit the prisoners down here, unless you needed them."

"That sounds stupid," Weasley comment.

She rolled her eyes at the comment. _Look who's talking._ "It was Draco's idea and if it wasn't for him, you would have these people being bothered every moment of the day."

"Bothered? Is that what you call torturing these days?"

"Anyway," she continued, pretending not to have heard him, "the next person who will come in, will most likely be Crabbe or one of his men, followed by the Dark Lord. And then he'll talk for a bit, threaten a bit, then have Potter here taken to be "questioned" for a bit."

"Questioned?" Harry wondered why he didn't like the easy way Midgen just mentioned and dropped that word.

"Don't worry," she tried to soothe. "They won't kill you. You're too valuable."

"Somehow that doesn't comfort me," Harry said under his breath. "What about that Oscar guy?"

"Oscar?" Midgen repeated. "He's nothing; a pawn really."

"He has our wands," Ron pointed out.

"Wait a moment, you don't have your wands?" Draco broke in. He had thought he had heard them mention that fact earlier, but it wasn't until then that it really sunk in. "Bloody hell," he cursed. "We're screwed. And I'm dead."

"Don't curse," Harry said in gut reaction. "And it's not as hopeless as that so quit being so melodramatic."

Draco fiddled with a piece of loose string on the sleeve of his robe. He didn't look up as Harry spoke to him, but when he had finished, Draco had plucked the string out. Flicking it away, he raised his head. "I'm being realistic. You expect to go up against the Dark Lord, you don't do it unarmed and imprisoned."

"What about Oscar," Harry asked again, but it was more of a statement than a real question. "You say he's a pawn, but pawns can be moved and controlled."

"Not by me," Midgen protested in horror as if the thought of doing such a thing was innately wrong and beyond her comprehension. "He's one of Draco's men."

The silver blonde started when he heard his name. "I've never heard of him," he told them, worrying his lip.

"Not yet, but you will. I really don't know much about him -- he's assigned to Crabbe, not to the Island," Midgen informed them. "All I know is that we have one leverage over Oscar and that is his son Matthew."

"You're holding his son over him?" Ron cried out in disbelief and horror. His mouth curled in disgust as he inched away. "How could you?"

Harry stayed silent, mainly for the reason that he understood how it was to use any means of leverage to gain the cooperation and loyal of people. And for him to condone other people using such means themselves would be rather hypocritical of him. It was just the way the world did things; the world and Harry Potter.

Not Ron though. Ron...Ron was still innocent, if that was to be believed as no one in times of war is completely innocent. But perhaps naive would be the better word in the sense that while Ron was present there, he wasn't exactly living in the world. And none of it was his fault, not really. His family played some blame, Dumbledore in others, even Harry himself have tried to keep the more unseemly things about their world from his friend. _And Hermione_, Harry thought, thinking of the conversation he had earlier with Ron's wife. If he got out of here -- _when I get out of here_, he changed -- he'll have to have a chat with the woman, find out what she knew. Because the way things seemed, she knew much more than he did and that was just...wrong. 

But because of their shielding of Ron, it had allowed him an environment where his misconceptions and prejudices grew. 

It hadn't started off as intentional. At first he shared everything he knew with his friends. And then they started to have lives. Outside of Harry. And away from Harry's problems. And because of that, Harry tried to give them more time with themselves rather than dealing with problems that were nobody's but his own. He had to take care of his own messes. It was what he had been taught since he had been a child. 

Harry turned to face Midgen, trying to gage her reactions, but with her it seemed as if she was either cold as ice or hot as fire. The problem was when she was cold, she cut off all her emotions, blocking any attempt to try and understand what she was thinking and when she was hot, she would react with uncontrollable anger. Neither way was beneficial to him.

"He's safe," she told them evenly as an answer. "That's better than what we are right now."

"You're blackmailing the man to work for you!" 

Harry closed his eyes and fought the urge to groan at Ron's behavior. He loved the guy and he was his best friend but sometimes, he was just too much for him to even stand. 

A large grin spread on Midgen's face, quickly becoming to resemble a smirk. "We're not blackmailing the fool."

Ron fell silent, momentarily struck. "But--"

"But nothing. He came to us, not the other way around."

Slowly, her words sank in to each of the other occupants of the cell. Though for some, it took a bit longer, they slowly started to understand. Harry began to grin. "You're protecting his son."

Midgen snorted. "You make that sound as if we weren't capable of such a thing, Boy Wonder."

Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't meant to. But then, replaying his words back to himself, he begrudgingly agreed that it could be taken in that context. He was just surprised. You don't hear about things like this that the Death Eaters do. "Sorry."

She shrugged it off. "No matter. Besides, it's better to give something to guarantee you get something back. Nothing is ever free in this world."

"Are you always like this?" Draco from beside her asked. "All these words, being all mystical -- it's an act right?"

Ron and Harry hid their smiles when Midgen stiffened and her face grew red as a ripe tomato. _Serves her right_, Harry thought, mirth in his head. The lofty speech, the cryptic words -- what the hell did she was trying to do? If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was trying to impress them. _Hell, she could be._ But whether it was him and Ron or Draco she was trying to impress he couldn't guess.

The woman eyes' grew cold. _But weren't they always cold?_ Harry wondered as she pursed her lips into a thin line. "Mystical? Act?"

Draco rolled his eyes in a very young manner. "No one talks like you."

"I talk like me," Midgen informed him. "And you talk like this!"

Groaning, Draco brought a hand to his face. "Don't tell me I become like you! Please kill me now. I don't think I would like to live knowing I'm like a _Hufflepuff_."

They really couldn't help themselves any longer. The way Midgen just seemed to get redder, and the way she looked like a cat on alert was just too much. And then there was Draco, behaving in a very Draco way. 

In a rush, Harry was hit with a bit of nostalgia. The slightly disgusted look on Draco's face was a memory from the past. A good one too and that was a change from the norm. Too many memories he had weren't even remotely good so when he was reminded of one, he had to cherish it. It brought back all those memories of days when good was good and bad was bad. Now, things were just a bit more muddled up.

In a low voice, not at all threatening which made it seem even more so, Midgen started to speak. "For one thing, I started to talk like _you_, okay? You were this way long before I came onto the scene and another thing -- Hufflepuffs are loyal and we have always stuck by you. No Hufflepuff yet has ever betrayed you but when you take the others, how many have jumped ship? You've got two in Slytherin and they were in your house."

At that, Draco's sense of House pride was prickled. "Slytherins go with the winners," he retorted.

"And they flock over to Voldemort?" Harry spoke in disbelief. "He's going to lose; its inevitable."

Draco snapped his head to face Harry. "He is not," he said stubbornly.

"God, listen to you Malfoy! You're rooting for the bastard now?" Ron burst. He couldn't believe the kid. He was going on You-Know-Who's side just for the sake of argument. _Idiot_, he cursed in his mind. 

"Why shouldn't I? He's a great leader, wants to change things for the better--"

"--by slaving the Muggle race, killing all non-purebloods and keeping his power through terror," Harry finished for him. "And don't pretend you don't hate him as much as we do. It's a bit late for that seeing as you've created and fulfilled a fantasy devoted to undermining your _great leader_," Harry finished for him.

With Harry's words, Draco fell silent, instinctively rebelling against the urge not to beat his point into the adult until he submitted. But the damned man was right, as much as he hated to admit it.

Feeling a bit sullen, he slumped down. His body was still aching and he didn't want to look too into the whys when it was them that he was trying to forget. He rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the throbbing that was starting to bother him.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked suddenly, concerned when he saw the way Draco winced and was now massaging his temples. The other two pairs of eyes followed Harry's gaze to Draco.

"Nothing," Draco muttered, his closing his eyes for a moment in a hard wink and then opening them up again.

Harry frowned. This little bit of reality brought him back to the present and everything that came before it, flew from his mind as thought it was never there. 

He turned to Midgen who was watching Draco intently. He cleared his throat to get her attention and he slowly turned her head, her expression on her face clearing saying she would rather not be talking to him. 

"Are you sure there's no other way out of here?"

"Yes," Midgen bit out. "I'm sure. If there is, Draco's the only one who'll know it and he doesn't exactly have the information in his head at the moment."

"No hidden tunnels? Magical walls? Nothing?" Harry grasped.

"No, nothing. If there was, do you think I would still be here?" Her voice couldn't hide her sarcasm but Harry forgave her. Everyone was on the last of their ropes.

"That doesn't seem like the Gregon," Ron commented. "He's always has had a fail-safe."

The blonde head lifted at the mention of the Gregon. Everything looked blurry to him since he had been rubbing his eyes and he shook his head to clear his vision. 

Feeling lousy and just a bit irritable, Draco drawled, "And just how do you know this?"

"Because I know everything about the Gregon," Ron shot back. He felt a surge of satisfaction flow through him with the way Malfoy looked so taken back. _Take that you little snit._

"If I were you, I wouldn't take pride in that, Weasley," Midgen defended. "Nothing to do but to become an expert on a supposedly fictional character?"

Ron stiffened on the insult. "It was before I knew who it was, but if I did, I assure you, I wouldn't have spent the time I did on it," he sneered.

Harry watched the exchange with curious eyes. Breathing in, he observed the similarities between the past and present. It was just the same as it had been when they were young. Malfoy would say something inappropriate and Ron would take offense. 

He sighed loudly, loud enough for everyone else to note of him. Lowering his eyes, Harry shook his head. He didn't want to be here. He never wanted things to be this way. Yet somehow he was always hoped into these things that he had no business doing. For once in his life, he wished he could just put a stop to things, to yell to everyone that he wasn't going to play their game anymore and that he was done. 

That's all he wanted to do. To finish the game.

But the game goes on and on and it never ends. The mere thought of that scared him. He was going to spend the rest of eternity playing the game that he never wanted to play in the first place.

And he couldn't stop; not when so many people are counting on him. He could just name them...

Ron for one.

Midgen for another, even though she might not want to admit it.

Draco, definitely since the other alternative would be death.

Hermione, to get her husband safely out alive.

Dumbledore to lead his people.

The Wizarding world down the youngest witch and the oldest wizard was out there hoping for a savior. They were hoping for him.

In the past, he had secretly enjoyed the thought of the Gregon. It was his hidden passion. Harry wasn't like Ron, who seemed to do things to the extreme, but he kept up on the stories of the Gregon. It thrilled him to learn of another, someone who had it worst than he did, but still fought. They were almost contemporaries. 

Plus, any way to give up some of the responsibilities and hopes fostered on to him to this new guy was always a good thing. If he wanted to be this great undercover spy, it was fine with Harry. He would much rather have the Gregon have his spotlight.

The trouble was that things rarely ever go his way. If fate was of his own volition, then he would never have been here in the first place. Someone else, someone who cares and matters would be in his place.

Because when you got down to it, Harry really didn't want to care. He really didn't want to do what he had been devoting his life to. And he sure as hell didn't want to be stuck in a cell with a Draco Malfoy who was starting to get on his nerves, even if the way concern on his face looked endearingly cute.

_Urg!_ Harry skidded to a stop in his head. _Especially with all those random thoughts about Malfoy that I would rather not be having!_ he added, trying to forget whatever it had been that he had said about the blonde. Now was not the time. 

It was never the time.

* * *

A/N: Wow, I'm here! And I wasn't supposed to be! LOL! I didn't want to post this originally simply because I don't like it. Just more of the repetitive nothing I drivel out. But have no fear, the next chapter is more or less finished and that has something more than this. 

Extreme apologies to all who have been waiting for so long for this chapter. I'm sorry to have disappointed you with this mediocre stuff but hanging in there and hopefully I'll redeem myself in the next week.

**KT:** I know! :( I'm sorry! But at least I'm updating now... It's something...

**Courteney:** You've been making your way around my stories haven't you? My first thought was NO! Don't read it! because I thought it was a terrible story that is not even half as good in quality as any of yours but seeing as you've only reviewed chapter 2, I feel a bit better. And I thought the name would be a bit confusing with all those grey-eyed Dracos out there... I personally think he's blue-eyed with a grey tint but...

**Princess Sparkle:** Thanks! I can't wait until the potion wears off because that would be so much more fun to write than him as a child and Harry having lusty thoughts about his person... I am so going to hell for this story. Of course he will not be very accepting and most likely in denial but that's very typical I think. I'm glad you are liking this story and god knows, I would love be with Draco myself, but if he's happy with Harry, okay because they are a cute couple.

**Prima Donna**: Um, actually, if you want to use my name, it's Sherry. Jun is not me, has never been me (it's my father). I'm so glad you like it and I will try to remember to email you. Do you want me to keep updating you?

**ekatya:** Great name! And I'm not belittling myself! Wait a few chapters, you'll see how terribly cliche this will be. And surpasses the original books? *gasp* Never! JKR is God and I could never amount to Her greatness. But that's for the review!

**Sheron:** I'm updating now and thank you so much!

**Tsuyuno:** Dang girl, that's a long review! Draco is a Mary Sue? LOL! Never thought about that before. Mary Sues are actually perfect people with odd abilities and looks. Usually it's the eyes that you can tell a true Mary Sue -- but I love eyes, always have, always will so I do focus on eyes a lot. I've never seen Brian Froud's book and I've never read any of Peter S. Beagle's books... I think I have heard of them though. Oscar is as Midgen says, a spineless little twit. But he's my spineless little twit. :) Yup, Oscar's son Matt. Fluff/action -- a while bit simply because fluff would only happen when Draco's 27 and action because I don't do action very well and tend to gleam. How many chapters until Draco's 27? I want to say five, but at the rate I'm going, it might as well be ten because it seems like I take twice as long to do things... I'm working on it.

**Tionne**: Hey! It's been a long while hasn't it? I'm glad my Draco is someone else's Draco. Tells me I'm doing something right. But I tend to think of him as infallible and perfect but to me he is very perfect. Hmm... Does sound like a Mary Sue though. But he doesn't have that tragic a past. Not really. And the stutter is gone! And Ron will be shocked to say the least when he finds out the truth. Hopefully, he won't do something drastic like try and kill Draco, but you never know about those red heads. This chapter I think there are less hints of slash because it was very trying and I couldn't manage it very well... Draco won't be getting his memory for at least another day, but whether or not they'll still be on the island...? I'm not sure yet. This really shocks me that you would want to read this even though for the most part it's preslash and the slash part is so long in coming, but thanks! NC-17? That isn't possible any more I think, but if there's going to be very explicit sex, I'm going to be blushing through it all. Matt -- he's in between life and death for the moment. Where he will end up is up to the fates now.

**WildfireFriendship:** Thanks! 

**spherris:** No problem! I'm glad you are liking it!

**Yuoko Gingitsune:** Goody!Draco -- scary little bugger he'd be. I wouldn't know how to handle him... Draco is very mysterious and very mistrusting. Of course he's a very well informed too so it helps for him to think a lot in his head. Though I sometimes question his penchant to keep things to himself -- see what sort of bind he's in? He's the only one who has the answers and he doesn't have them. Thanks for the review!

**A/N 2:** Okay a little info about the life of the story. I will try to finish it, truly I will try. As many people who try to balance life and fanfiction, it's pretty hard when you've got classes to go to and a job to manage along with the other stuff that seems to beg your attention. This year is a bit hard since I'm taking more challenging classes, and most the time I'm doing some reading for a course but I am trying to squeeze in writing. Plus I've got other fanfics that I've been working on. If it gets to the point where I am not posting for a few months, I will try and give you a short story or maybe the beginning chapters of my newest story that wasn't supposed to be posted until finish, but I think by that point I will be owing you something. I know it doesn't make up for it, and hopefully I won't go mental from now to the end of the school year. I have to plans to abandon this story though -- how long it takes for me to finish it is a whole another story. Ciao for now and please review. Give me your thoughts (or management tips for those who have struck a nice balance) because I feel like I'm just trying to stay afloat at the moment.


	16. Chapter 15

****

Chapter Fifteen

It was as if a black cloud had descended upon them with the way they were all feeling at the moment. Always at a standstill and crossroads, they had no way to turn. Loyalties blurred, trust withheld for the sake of withholding.

"Why don't we just wing it?" Harry suggested suddenly, without looking up. There was an odd colored pebble near his right foot. _What color is that?_ he wondered. _Light purple? Puce?_ With effort, he lifted his head and continued, "Because I don't think we're ever going to come to a consensus and the more we argue, the more we go off topic."

Two faces of disbelief met him and one of confusion. Again he was reminded with how much he loved the way Draco was so unbalanced with him. To him, he was the Second year Gryffindor who took offense from things, not the seasoned veteran he was seeing in front of him. Harry wondered how the older version of Draco would be and before he had a chance to really think about it, Ron was already talking.

"In case you've forgotten, we've got You-Know-Who who's coming here in a few moments. I don't think that's something you should _just wing_. Can't you see that?," Ron started in a lecturing voice.

"I know that and you know that. And I know you know that also, Midgen," Harry added before the woman had a chance to chime in as he knew she would. "But we can't work together, can't you see _that_?" He looked Ron straight in the eye trying to show him that meant what he said. 

For the most part, he did mean it, but he was hoping by this small underhanded maneuver would be the way to tie them together. He was sure if that they could agree on one thing, they could make it work.

"We have no plan," Draco chimed in. "We're doomed."

"Don't be so negative," Ron admonished him. "We're not beat until we're beat."

For once, Midgen held her tongue, something that gave Harry an ounce of hope. He tried to convey to Draco, tell him to be quiet, not to rise up to Ron's mild jibe, but it might as well have been telling a fish not to swim.

Snorting, Draco sent Ron a derisive glance. "You're outnumbered, without your wands, trapped in a cell -- we're not exactly in a offensive position here."

"You rather we just surrender?" Harry asked.

Draco fell silent and Harry if he wasn't feeling so damn seriously, he would have lorded that over him. "See?" he pointed out, not to be smug about it, but just stating a fact. "We can't gain anything if we don't do anything."

"Especially since the alternative is Harry here being put under the Veritaserum and giving up key information about our plans."

Again Harry noticed the way that Midgen kept her tongue in cheek; she must have had a jibe on the tip of her tongue on the verge of being spoke but had thought better of voicing it. _She is learning some restraint_, he commented. _Or she had just now employed it._

"The best bet we have here is this Oscar chap." Ron shook his head as though he couldn't believe he was doing this. "If what you say is true," he spoke directly to Midgen. "Then he has no choice but to help us."

For a brief moment Midgen hesitated, averting her eyes for a millisecond. But it was the briefest of moments and before Harry could comment on it -- or even before he could even think about it properly, she had responded. 

"Yes," she agreed but to Harry's ears it lacked conviction. With a look to the others, it was clear that they hadn't noticed it, worrying him even more. Maybe he was over-reacting, hearing things that clearly was not being said, but something was nagging on his subconscious, telling him to be wary. "But without prompting, he wouldn't do a thing. He's a spineless little twit."

"That spineless little twit is the only person out there who can help us," Harry countered, following Ron's line of thought. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed to be their only viable hope at the moment. "But if we can't rely on his to come through for us, who can we?" When he finished the sentence he bent down and picked up that puce colored rock. He straightened back, turning the pebble in his hand. It was the only thing of color in the wretched cell -- and though it wasn't very colorful it was better than nothing. Maybe it'll bring him a bit of luck. God knows how much he needed it.

Midgen had started to shake her head in the negative even before Harry finished talking. "No one," she uttered. "There's no one here that is loyal to either Draco or me, not even to our plight. We had never planned for this eventuality."

"But I thought Draco planned for everything," Harry wondered out loud. 

"You can't plan for every single thing. What was the probability that you and Weasley along with Draco and I would get caught? It was supposed to a sort of chain. If he gets caught, you come in, save him and if you get caught I intervene." Midgen's face contorted in distaste.

"You did more than intervene," Harry informed her. "You were supposed to be our guide -- that isn't exactly stepping in when we fail."

She shook her head. "Not my fault. I would have had you bumble around the island if it had been up to me but I was told to--" She broke off, her mouth opened wide. Gritting her teeth, she shut her mouth, her lips settling on a thin line. "Bastard!" she cursed under her breath.

"Excuse me?" Draco beside her looked at her oddly.

"Crabbe! He was the one to tell me to guide you! That git!" she cursed again. She looked down, hating herself for being such a fool.

Harry rubbed a hand over her eyes before looking back up. He wasn't feeling too well at the moment. Everything seemed to be exaggerated and fuzzy. He was probably just tired. It was pretty late and though he had taken a nap before heading off to the Weasleys', he hadn't had much rest. That combined with all that's happened, he was starting to feel somewhat out of it. "Whatever," he said, trying to stop that conversation. If they get off track, it'll be minutes before they get back on track. "So you have no escape route for if you and Draco get trapped?"

"The two of us?" Midgen asked surprised.

"Shouldn't," Draco tried, his voice a bit strained. The other three turned to look at him. "Shouldn't there be tunnels?"

"Tunnels?" Ron asked.

Draco nodded. "Tunnels that lead out of the dungeon. They're supposed to be a backup plan if I ever get caught."

"How do know about these tunnels?" Harry asked, curious.

He shrugged. "Just something I thought up. I'm not stupid enough not to leave myself an escape." He scowled at the thought.

Harry turned to Midgen. "You know about these?"

She frowned. "Not that I know of but it's possible. Draco rarely tells me everything."

Ron raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you were Draco's _most trusted advisor_," he sneered mockingly. 

Though her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed, Midgen refused to rise to the jab. "That may be so," she replied coldly, "But Draco Malfoy only trusts Draco Malfoy. That's why he's so important."

"So the only reason why we're risking our asses is because Malfoy has trust problems!" It was phrased a question, but it was more like a statement more than anything. 

_Oh no..._ Harry thought apprehensively. _What the hell is with those two?_ he thought furiously. _Every single time! We've been here five hours and they've still like this!_ He really didn't want to get into the middle of another one of their little arguments but if they were going to keep them from the task they were sent to do, it seemed that he had no choice but to.

He turned his head to look at Draco. The blonde boy -- and he kept on calling him a boy even though it was hard to reconcile that man with a boy -- was looking away. He wasn't even paying attention to the commotion that Midgen and Ron were perpetuating. Harry frowned as he took in the serious and contemplative nature of Draco's facial expression. Following his eyes, he saw nothing of interest but a plain stone wall, exactly the same as the other three in the cell.

"You two cut it out," Harry snapped. It came out a bit more harsh than he had planned but he was really getting annoyed. All this waiting, the fighting, the vulnerable position they were in -- it was really getting to him.

The two of them paused in mid sentence, shock marring their faces. A flash of hurt sparked behind Ron's eyes and instantly Harry regretted his outburst. Rubbing his temples, he mumbled an apology. He sighed. "We really need to get out of here soon, which I'm sure you are all aware of but you not--" He stopped abruptly when he realized he wasn't making much sense. He tried again, trying to make sense of the thoughts that were fluttering around in his mind. "See, you're letting your personal lives get in the way and it's not very professional. I mean, I would expect this of Draco, but you two? You should know better than this."

Like petulant, bashful children, Ron and Midgen lowered their heads in disgrace. Both of them knew that they were behaving out of character and just a bit childish. "Sorry," they both muttered, albeit a bit reluctantly. Ron looked up but Midgen steadfastly kept her head down. 

Looking at her, Harry could see her talking to herself under her breath, but what he was saying, he had not idea. Finally she lifted her head and on her face was a fairly neutral and somewhat resigned expression. Swallowing, she haltingly thrust her hand out. "I--I'll stop...but--but only for Draco's sake...okay? Truce?"

Ron looked at the hand as though it would rear up and bite him, but nonetheless, he begrudgingly took Midgen's hand. "So long as you don't make fun of my name and _don't_ mention what happened three years ago," he warned.

Sighing, Midgen shooked firmly. "Fine, We--" She stretched out the first syllable, smirking at the way Ron stared at her. "--easley."

"Good," Harry responded, though he didn't really approve of the way Midgen had toyed with Ron, but he supposed he would have to just life with that. Especially now that they were finally getting the hang of it. "Now, what about these tunnels that Draco mentioned?"

"I think they might be there." Draco pointed at the wall he had been and was still staring at.

"What makes you say that?" Midgen asked him as she moved in to get a close look.

Draco shrugged. "It's where I would put it if I were me." He took a few steps until he was only a foot away from the wall. Placing his hands on it, he moved his hands around, feeling for something. "But I'm not sure where the trigger is..."

"You should keep on looking. Maybe you'll get lucky," Harry advised. "The rest of us should concentrate on Voldemort's arrival."

Placing an errant strand of hair behind her ear, Midgen turned. Licking her lips, she prepared her speech. "I think you should do nothing."

"Nothing?" Ron repeated in disbelief. "We can't do nothing!"

Harry stayed silent, waiting to hear about where this was going.

"Not exactly nothing," Midgen clarified. "More like what Harry was suggesting earlier."

Still not sure where this was going, Harry was willing to see it through. "You mean winging it?"

She nodded. "Do as he cues. We don't know what to expect and we can't exactly plan for anything to let's just come to the bridge when we get to it. Do whatever feels right and hopefully he'll leave us alone for long enough to escape."

Harry frowned, the suggestion settling uneasily within him. She had a point in that they couldn't plan for something that they could not plan for, but even though he had been the one to bring up the idea of winging things, he didn't feel right about just leaving things up to chance. He was too much of a pessimist to believe they could have a chance if they went down that road.

"Fine," Harry finally concluded. He looked around at his motley crew, feeling an awful foreboding that this was going to be one predicament that he wasn't going to get out of. "So we wait."

* * *

"Ms. Granger?" 

From beyond, a listless voice danced around her fogged mind, slowly seeking entrance. "Ms. Granger?" This time it was more insistent. Accompanying the soft question was a gentle shake. "Ms. Granger!"

With a snap, she jerked away, blinking a few times to get the sleep out of her eyes. "What?" she asked, the second half of the word being stretched out in a long yawn. She brought a hand to her face, using her forefinger and thumb rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's five a.m., ma'am."

Groaning at the time, Hermione craned her neck, and stretched, hearing the faint pops of her bones popping back into place. "Are they back?" 

There was a small hesitation but it was enough to dash her small hopes. Sucking in a breath, Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't think so." 

Mistia looked upon her with a sympathetic glance. "I'm sure they're fine."

She couldn't help but let out a sharp laugh. "That's what they all tell me."

"You have to trust them," Mistia told her kindly. 

"I do." Propping her elbows on her desk, she placed her face in her hands, giving herself a good rub. She looked up. "I trust Ron to get killed and Harry to try to save him with them both ending up in tiny little pieces four months later after they've gotten all they wanted from them."

There was a pause of silence as she stunned Mistia with her words. Hell, she was feeling a bit shocked about them herself as well. It was just that her husband, whom she had lost for a year two years ago was now going back into enemy territory -- and willingly! But what could she have done? Tell him to refuse the assignment as she had wanted to? Tell him to stay safe with her? She had been tempted, but she couldn't. She knew just as he did the reasons for going outweighed the reasons for staying and she could never be as selfish as to make him choose. And she knew if she had asked, had pleaded and begged him, he would have forsaken his duty, damn the causes. But she could never put him in such position. Not with herself on the sidelines rooting for him succeed. 

Hermione let out a deep breath. "So we've no word?"

"Um...none. At least not from them. Reynard checked in though. He said he had to leave the surrounding waters, but he will be there after sundown waiting for them." 

Hermione nodded. "That's...good. At least we have him there looking over things. God knows we need something to go right now... Have they found Mulligan yet?"

Another pause and immediately Hermione was hit was apprehension. "Am I going to like this?" she asked Mistia, looking her straight in the eyes.

There was a terse shake of the head. "I'm afraid he's been found."

There was a beat before she started talking again. "How many pieces?" she asked, dead-panned, though half in joke.

"Eight," Mistia returned, not at all in a joking matter.

Hermione sighed. "Damn," she cursed silently. _Another one!_ "Where's Ritter?" she inquired, moving away from that sad matter.

Mistia didn't even blink from the change. With her job, it was almost commonplace. "He's in Hong Kong, visiting some relatives."

"Recall him," Hermione ordered. "He needs to take Mulligan's place. Tell him that he will be assuming the identity of Louis Layton. Send him the necessary materials?"

Without having her request confirmed Hermione continued. "Tell him to try not to break the bank with this venture, okay? We can't have a stunt like last time or it will be coming out of his own pay check. He's to report Sydney to rendezvous with Herbie Gefford. He'll be expecting him."

"Gefford? The Australian operative?" Mistia paused in her writing for one moment and looked up. "Has this been sanctioned?" she asked with a bit of trepidation in her voice. Gefford was somewhat of an embarrassment to the Ministry, one that they wished didn't exist and wasn't in such a deep operation. The last time he had managed to capture nine Death Eaters, not counting the two that he killed, but also managed destroying a portion of downtown Sydney. Fortunately, it was in the warehouse district, so there weren't that many people around but it still took months for them to fully rectify the situation.

"No," Hermione answered in tone of voice that clearly had the undertones that she didn't need to. "But it's my prerogative. So make sure he is notified. I think it's..." She trailed off trying to calculate the time. "Four in the afternoon there? He should have been up and about for hours now."

"Of course," Mistia acknowledged, making a small note. "Hang in there, okay?" she said comfortingly, squeezing her shoulder before she started to leave. "Oh and I had the contents of Item 4586ST sent up."

Hermione sat in her chair stunned, Mistia's last words falling on death's ear. She usually didn't approve of being in such friendly terms with the staff but the last few days. Maybe it was Ron being on Malos Island that was sending everyone on a mission to comfort her. _At least she didn't say Don't Worry_, she thought in consolation. Now there was a phrase she didn't want to hear.

Shaking out of her reverie, her eyes focusing on the box off to the side of her desk that had not been there when she had nodded off only half an hour before. 

When she opened the box and examined the contents, her confusion since starting this particular project only seemed to grow. Her face twisted in bafflement as she wondered why a wizard would need such things. "What the hell..."

* * *

"Heads up!" Ron alerted them. He had been placed on sentry duty at the door, half looking out of the little barred hole and half listening intently for any sort of noise. 

The others rushed to their places, standing in the middle of the cell while Draco dropped to the floor off the side, trying to be unconscious. He did not want to provoke any sort of reemergence of what had transpired before. He still had the pains from earlier today, reminding him of pain and suffering that he rather not remember.

"Bloody hell," Ron cursed loudly as he craned his head, trying to see something outside. "Never mind, guys. It was just a guard passing ahead." He turned and scowled. "When is You-Know-Who going to get here? It's practically dawn and the man still hasn't come!" 

Harry smiled, besides himself. This was new. Ron actually wanting Voldemort to come. He wondered if Ron had ever listened to his words because sometimes he says the darnest things and it seemed as if he was totally unaware. _He probably is_, Harry thought.

Draco let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding, sighing in relief. That had been a close one. For a moment, he had been paralyzed, his only thought was of how You-Know-Who was coming...because of him. 

_Oh my God..._ Draco thought, with a sickening revelation. He had betrayed the Dark Lord! The enormity of what he did had finally set in.

He.

Had.

Betrayed.

The.

DARK.

LORD.

And suddenly there didn't seem to be enough air in the room and what there was he couldn't get in fast enough. The walls of the cells... _Have they always been so confining?_ he thought to himself, his mind in panic. He had heard of the old cliché of the walls closing in on him but never did he think he would actually feel the sensation himself. Now that it was happening, he didn't feel so great.

_Oh god! What have I done?_ he thought in growing horror and anxiety. He looked around the cell madly, trying to find some escape, anything; he just wanted to get out of there.

With his chest heaving, and his breathing becoming more and more shallow, he felt as though he was being choked, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket and smothered alive. As his vision started to dim from the lack of oxygen coming in, he heard saw a shadowy figure loom over him, causing his panic to rise another notch.

"Hey, what's the matter!" the disembodied voice came from somewhere out there. 

Draco didn't answer, shaking his head. _Oh god! The Dark Lord! THE DARK LORD!_ His thoughts had reached another level of hysteria and all he could concentrate was on the thought that he had betrayed the Dark Lord, one of the most vile, evil, _powerful_ man in the world. _What the hell was I thinking?!_

He felt a hand on his arm and instantly jerked away, flinging his arm wildly at the apparition. His hand connected with nothing but air but the violent movement caused him to lose his balance, toppling his body back. The last thing before he succumbed to the darkness was someone uttering the word, "Shit."

* * *

"Shit!" Harry cursed as he saw Draco fall back and his head connect with the wall behind him. He winced at the crack his head made. "What the hell happened!" he demanded Midgen, his eyes hard. 

"How the hell would I know?" Midgen cried out. She rushed over to Draco's side, dropped down next to him. After examining him a bit, she pronounced, "He's out cold."

"Gee, you think?" Harry asked redundantly of Midgen. He was a bit annoyed with the way she fawned herself all over Draco. The boy wasn't even awake for God's sake! He felt the urge to yank Midgen away from Draco and to conduct his own examination. He didn't trust the Death Eater to be thorough enough.

"He's going to have a bruise later on," Ron remarked, leaning over the three of them. He had joined the group when Draco had fallen unconscious again. "And quite a headache."

Harry frowned. He had known this was heading in a calamitous way. Ever since Draco had started to hyperventilate and whip his head madly around, he had a feeling... And then when he tried to help, the boy tried to strike him! Him! And he had only been trying to see what was wrong! The boy had gotten paler than usual, which was quite a feat considering Draco had really fair skin to start off with and there was a panicked look to his eyes that he didn't completely like.

He had tried pushing Midgen gently away before giving her a shove that sent her sprawling and then settled down in front of Draco. He ignored her cry of protest and slapped the boy gently on face, trying to rouse some life into him. "Now's not the time to be sleeping, Draco, if you know what I mean!" He slapped the other cheek now, harder by a bit, but stopped when he realized he was causing the skin to reddened. _Red looks good on him_, he thought idly but all thoughts about how he looked with red cheeks flew out of his mind when he saw Draco's eyelids start to flutter.

He tried to smile as dazed eyes looked up at him. "Glad to see you back with us."

Draco's eyes squeezed shut as he groaned. He turned out of the way, letting out a loud breath. "What happened?"

"You knocked yourself on the head," Ron informed him, his voice amused. "And managed to knock yourself out."

A hand flew to the back of his head, feeling the bruise there gingerly. He tried to control the immediate emotion of embarrassment, but from the way heat was most likely radiating from his cheeks, he didn't think he had succeeded. He groaned as he flinched as his fingers found the bump. Bring his knees up, he laid his elbows on top of them and place his face in his hands. _Is this nightmare ever going to end?_

He felt a small elevation of panic as he remembered what had caused him to be in this position in the first place. It was his stupidity that got them into this -- his future self's fallacy. And he was going to pay for something he didn't remember doing.

"Are you okay?" Harry questioned, his concerned eyes searching the bent figure for other signs of injury.

His mouth deepened in a frown as the way Harry's voice and concern started to grate on his nerves and he lifted his head. The first thing he saw was the genuine worry in Harry's eyes, mocking him and taunting him, causing him to feel even more inferior and more enraged. _I'm the one to get them into this mess and he feels pity for me?_ Draco thought with revulsion. "I'm fine," he spat, knocking Harry's well meaning hands away from him. The other man had only innocently offered him a helping hand up. "I can get up on my own," he snapped, his eyes sending him a dirty look. "I'm not a child!"

Unsteadily, Draco shifted his legs under him as he started to stand. _I thought we had gotten this part over_, he thought thinking back to a few hours ago when he had first awoken. _Why are they staring at me?_ It seemed almost as if they all had their eyes on him -- Harry's wide ones filled with puzzlement; Midgen's narrowed ones with suspicion and Weasley's with feigned nonchalance. They were all staring at him and it was getting bloody annoying!

And it was surprising that of the three, he felt the most comfortable with Weasley's expression. At least he wasn't behaving any differently. Harry... That man he knew to be Harry Potter...wasn't. He wasn't his Potter and he missed that. That boy had been fun to play with -- though most of the time it felt like Potter had been playing with him. 

Everything about this new Potter annoyed him and seemed to chafe on him. Even the simple acts of kindness repulsed him because _that wasn't the way it's supposed to be_. Potter wasn't supposed to be nice to him! They were best enemies! It was what they were! _What the hell happened in the next fifteen years to make him act so nice to me?_ There was just something wrong about Potter and the words nice to him that made him feel a bit more uneasy. At least with the old one he knew how to act. This new person... He wasn't sure who this person was but he wasn't the Harry Potter he knew. That Harry Potter had been a poof, naive and innocent -- this one... _Well he still looks like a poof_, Draco thought critically of Harry. _But naive and innocent doesn't seem to describe this man anymore._ Suddenly there were shadows and veiled look he knew very well from experience. He was hiding something behind those eyes -- seen something, done something to shake his confidence up.

Thinking about the past as the past brought back all the questions that had surged through his mind when he had been told that fifteen years had passed. Did he ever get that chance to best Potter? How did You-Know-Who rise to power? Wasn't Potter supposed to prevent that from happening? Isn't that what heroes are supposed to do?

From the way they were speaking of him, he would have guessed the man was alive and well but the words "alive" and "well" were hard to reconcile with the beaten and weakened You-Know-Who he knew. Plus, the very consequence of the Dark Lord walking around, back amongst the living was too great for people like Dumbledore not to prevent. He wasn't even sure his _father_ would not try to prevent that from ever happening.

Draco mentally shuddered, shutting his train of thoughts right where it was. He really didn't want to follow it through and see where it would lead. Deny it exists or will exist as it felt like for him was always a good strategy for avoiding the usually unavoidable. Especially when the Dark Lord was very much real and was most likely going to kill him. A wave of nausea rolled through him, causing him to turn a light shade of green. _What could my future self been thinking?! He's a fucking idiot!_ he denounced himself, not caring that he was effectively berating himself. As far as he was concerned his future self did not exist and was not a part of him.

He looked at Harry who was still in front of him, looking a bit taken back but still showing signs of concern. That alone annoyed him. The last thing he should be feeling for him is concern. If he had been in Harry's position, he would have been ranting and raving at everyone and everything, regardless if they were to blame and even more upset if they were. And he definitely was. No matter how hard you tried to sugarcoat it, he was the blame for everything. Now everyone was going to die.

He was going to die.

They had Harry now. _And they have the Weasel_, he added as an afterthought. He wasn't needed any longer -- not when the only thing they had really wanted was the Boy Who Lived and with him in their grasp, why keep the traitor, right? He was going to die and the only thing that had been keeping him from the fate was here trying to save him. And with the potion still going strong, he didn't even have any information to barter for his life.

Not for the first time, he got the feeling that life was unfair and that it wholly unjust of them -- whomever they were -- to subject people to the fate of life. What harsher sentence could there be? Just thinking about it made him want to throw up. Too many times had he thought life was too harsh, that it was better off dead than merely existing in his life. But he had also thought once that everything his father did to him was the worst pain he would ever feel. Now he knew he was wrong. The last few days... Those opened his eyes to a whole new world of hurt previously unknown to him and as far as he was concerned, he was never going to think about it again.

But even as he vowed not even to acknowledge that it had happened to him, he could feel his skin shrinking, almost as though it was a size too small for his body. The hair at the back of his neck stood on end, as phantom pains ghosted on his body, reminding him of the pain he had endured. He shuddered, fear pricking his skin. He didn't want to go back to that -- he couldn't go back to that. _No._ He shook his head in determination and fear. He would stop at nothing to keep that from happening. He didn't care about what his future self was concocting in that jelly brain of his but he was here now and this was his body. There was no way he is going to be letting anything happen to it. He looked down at himself, wishing a mirror to see what he looked like in full length. He hoped his had actually grown into his look because when he was younger, he had been a very awkward looking child, something he had always detested.

Draco scowled for no reason except to get the feeling of one on his face again. It felt good, damn good. It was almost like an old friend greeting him home again. For the first time in days, he felt like he was finally comfortable in this new body of his. It vibrated strength, something he hadn't had when he was younger and he liked it. From what he can see of his figure, he looked damn fine. There was no possible way for him to fail with a body like this one. It was wound up so tight, ready for action, he could feel the way his heart pulsed as it speed up a few beats with his growing excitement. 

At that moment he knew he wasn't going to die. He wasn't going to die. _I'm not going to die, damnit!_ he affirmed, his blood rushing through his body, leaving a warm trail throughout his insides. He loved the heady feeling he was getting from the rush. It made him feel totally out of control, but that was then that he felt as thought he was in the most in control. Finally something that fit, something that felt _right!_ "I said I'm fine!" he snarled at the three of them, trying to dispel those bloody _eyes_ that were getting on his nerves. Looking around for something to get the attention off of himself, his eyes fell on the dependable Weasley. "Shouldn't you be at the door?" he asked pointedly, gesturing to the said object. The venomous glare that looked like it could kill Ron sent him complete the picture. There was nothing like a prissy Weasel in the morning to get you started in the day. "Well?" Draco questioned impatiently after a few beats. "It's not going to be guarded by itself you know," he added as an extra insult to injury.

Harry watched the proceedings with fascinated eyes. The way Draco just changed like that! It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Hell, even Midgen looked surprise in the sudden change of demeanor and from what he knew intelligence wise, she was the one who knew him the best! The fact that she was perplexed by it said a lot. He had been captivated with curiosity by the change, mesmerized although he had been a bit disconcerted that a person could change just like that in a blink of an eye. One minute he had thought Draco was going to be sick and the next moment it was like the old Malfoy, not the Malfoy the child but the Malfoy he and Ron had encountered after his reappearance after his father's death. Something about Draco sent a shiver up his spine, something that was not fear but something else, something he couldn't explain and he wasn't sure he wanted it explained. 

Ron started stomped off to the door, obeying but with a tint of defiance. That he was actually doing as Draco instructed made Draco's smirk wider. He had gotten just a bit more control and he liked it. _It feels bloody great! _

But before Ron could make it to the door, the thing slammed opened, the metal sending vibrations all throughout the walls of the cell. All four of them froze in shock, not one had heard anyone approach. There standing in front of the door was a man, robed in a dark tunic, smiling in pleasure.

"Harry Potter, we meet again," the slithering voice hissed in half-concealed delight.

* * *

Harry froze, his hackles rising as they always did when that...thing was near him. He could feel nothing but revulsion and disgust for him. Once a time ago maybe he would have felt something other than abhorrence but he had come a long way from the naive kid who felt everyone was redeemable. And certainly if his faith had been intact all these years, it surely would have been dashed by Aislynn seven years ago. 

He leveled his gaze on his aggressor -- the thing he would have said was his most hated enemy, even more so than Malfoy the Death Eater -- and didn't speak. He wouldn't, couldn't give that thing the satisfaction. In his eyes, Voldemort had long since became a thing, rather than a man. A man couldn't have killed his parents and then inspired to try and kill him each year from his First Year at Hogwarts on. A man couldn't have killed and terrorized the Wizarding community for as long as he had. A _man_ wouldn't have been so stupid to come into a cell where there were two full level wizards and one witch, no matter that they were wandless. What was ironic was that he would have felt the same about Draco only a week before. Now, seeing him as a child trying to prove to the world that he wasn't rattled, he saw the boy in a completely different light. Besides, even Malfoy would have been smarter than to underestimate him and Ron. He might have been arrogant, but he wasn't stupid.

Voldemort smiled mirthlessly. There was nothing in his eyes but a cold delight that had Harry put on edge. He had dealt with this thing before too many times to ignore these little clues of what is to come and to be rattled by them. He stood up straight, lifting his head to look Voldemort straight in the eyes. He would not cower in front of this man.

Behind him, he heard a hitch in Draco's breath. He resisted the urge to turn back, see how he was taking this sudden appearance, but he couldn't avert his eyes. Not even for that. 

"So we do," Harry answered him smoothly. "I can't say it's under very good circumstances."

"I wouldn't say that," Voldemort commented on casually. "I've got you and your little sidekick. Seems like very good circumstances from my point of view."

Harry frowned. The slight jab at Ron was not unnoticed and he hoped that his friend knew better than to offense at a comment. But knowing Ron, he probably was only barely able to restrain himself. _Funny he didn't mention Midgen..._ he thought curiously. He would have thought another high level spy along with the Boy Who Lived would have been quite a coup. 

"And I've got my little traitor. What more could a man ask?" Voldemort continued, a satisfied smile forming on his lips.

"You're not a man!" Ron retorted. He had jumped a few steps back when the door had erupted opened practically in his face so no longer was the person closest to the Dark Lord. If he had been, Harry supposed he would have thought twice about making such a comment.

In his head, Harry cursed Ron for being a fool. He could tell the moment that the words left his friend's mouth that it was an idiotic thing to do. In a blink of an eye, Voldemort had his wand raised and pointed at the redhead. The curse was on his lips and his raspy voice gasping it out before anyone could even stop to think of stopping him.

Instantly, Ron had his hands clutching at his throat and his mouth opening in a soundless gasp. His eyes bulged red as he furtively sought out the precious oxygen that was no longer accessible. Frantically, he turned his head, begging with his eyes for help as his face got redder and redder due to the lack of air.

"Let him go Voldemort; it's me you want," Harry tried, moving up in front of him. "He's got nothing to do with this."

To his surprise, Voldemort did just that. With the flick of his wrist, he released Ron from his hold. 

Suddenly free, Ron reserves collapsed under the pressure and he doubled over, wheezing as he gulped in air. He looked up at Voldemort, this time his eyes devoid of reproach. Harry thanked the powers that be that for once Ron seemed to have learned some tact.

"I don't think I'll kill you just yet..." Voldemort mused nonchalantly as though he hadn't a care in the world.

_He must be very sure of himself to leave himself open like this_, Harry accessed. But he couldn't deny that if he were in his shoes, he would be pretty confident himself. He was in a bad way and he knew it. He tried to think of way to remedy the situation, but he couldn't help feeling like it was hopeless and he was useless. _Get a grip on yourself Potter_, he ordered himself. _You analyze your feelings of impotency when you're out of this mess -- providing you're still alive when that happens_, his inner voice couldn't help but add, as if he wasn't all too aware of the fact himself.

He eyed the door, trying to see if there was any guards lurking behind there that could stop them should they attempt an escape. He couldn't tell -- the hallway was dim enough that he couldn't see if there were any shadows on the ground floor. Thinking it over, he thought of the validity of the plan to just try and attempt a halfcocked escape. Even if they should be able to get away from Voldemort, somehow incapacitate him, they still had the guards -- which Harry was almost sure were out there -- to contend with and they would never be able to get away from them; not without their wands. Harry flared his nostrils, unable to withstand this waiting and idleness and not able to comprehend that this situation might be impossible to overcome. 

Voldemort stopped his musing for a moment, that dangerous gleam in his eyes present once more as he stared at the motley group. His grin grew wide as he fell on Draco and Harry didn't quite like the maliciousness look within the Dark Lord's eyes. 

With his eyes riveted to the still figure of Draco, Voldemort took a few steps closer to get a good look at him. The door of the cell clanged behind him, locking with a sure click. For a moment, he wondered if Voldemort knew he was locking himself in a small cell with three enemies. It wasn't one of the smartest things the Dark Lord had ever done, in his opinion. With his back turned to the three of them, they would have the element of surprise to over take the man before he even knew what had hit him.

But for the moment Harry couldn't leave Draco unprotected and moved closer to him, a steady guardian for the person he was sent to rescue. Draco had his head tilted back, resting on the wall behind him as he stared up unflinchingly to at the Dark Lord. Harry was proud of the way Draco seemingly stood up to Voldemort, though no words had yet to be uttered yet. There weren't that many people alive who would dark to look the thing in the eye and though Harry could see the slightest hint of apprehension in those icy blue globes, Draco still didn't back down.

"My little traitor; are we enjoying out stay here?" 

Draco didn't answer him, instead staring impassively.

Voldemort snarled and with a quick hand grabbed Draco's chin. "Look at your Lord when I am talking to you!" he snapped as he roughly thrust Draco's head up. 

"You thought I didn't know about your little clandestine activities but look at who's where now," he continued, his hand still on Draco's chin. Harry resisted the urge to lunge over there and yank the hand away as he pushed down a wave of revulsion. He couldn't understand how Draco could stand it with that thing's hand on a part of his body. If it were him, he would be recoiling in horror and disgust in an instant.

"But, I'm a charitable person." Voldemort softened, if that was even possible. Confident that Draco could hold his own for the moment, Harry discreetly moved a few paces until he could look over Voldemort's oblivious figure. Behind Voldemort's back, Harry cast a glance to Midgen and Ron, gesturing slowly with a hand to get ready. Now was his chance. He locked eyes with Draco, though no one would have noticed that Draco was looking at Harry rather than the Dark Lord. He tried to convey with his eyes to keep the thing distracted so he could do what he needed to do, tried to tell him to keep on doing what he was doing and that it was soon going to end.

"...I'll consider letting you live..."

He was only half listening to Voldemort ramble on at this point. With each and every encounter he had had with the Dark Lord, he had noticed that he seemed to be a rather talkative fellow. The problem was that everything he would say would seem to be so boring that he fault the urge to let his mind wander. If his life wasn't at risk if he should, he would have.

Once he was sure that Draco had got his meaning, he turned his head away and once again found Ron's eyes. He knew his friend would follow his lead. He tried to catch Midgen's eyes and though he found them, he didn't feel as though he had came to an agreement with her.

Still, he had to work with what he had. Just he was about to raise his arms to strike, a blur of motion came from the corner of his eye, totally unexpected. And before he even knew what had spurred that on, several things happened at once and later looking back on the incident, he couldn't remember which happened when. At some point, Ron ended up on the ground, crying out in pain because of the jarring fall and the Dark Lord straightening, casting a spell on Draco to immobilize the whirl of blond torrent. Somehow, he ended up on the floor along with Ron, a position he didn't know how he had fallen into, looking up at a solemn Midgen. Her eyes had turned an even darker shade as she observed the two of them with the odd glance to Draco.

"You shouldn't have done that," Midgen spoke softly.

A growing sense of dread filled him. 

"You should have just stayed home but you were _stupid_ enough to come and try rescue Malfoy." Midgen shook her head in pity.

_Malfoy?_

"You should know by now that no one escapes Malos Island."

Her deafening words thundered in Harry's ears as the full impact of her words hit him. His eyes grew wide with shock and disbelief, the twin of his expression expressed on Ron's face. Draco would have sport one like it but being stuck in the body bind, he couldn't exactly do anything at all. 

The triumphant smirk on Voldemort's face confirmed his suspicions and the only thing that Harry could see was the fallen pieces of another illusion at his feet.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I know, I'm late. :( What can I say that I haven't said before? Life got away from me as it often does now and I just didn't have time to finish it. But at least this chapter is finished right? I think I've finally realized that it takes me about twice as long as I think it would take and that life is just too unpredictable for me to schedule writing time. It's like when I should have time to write, I can't because I'm doing something and when I don't have time to write, I still can't write because I'm doing something. 

I don't know if any of you noticed, but Gregon is reaching it's one year anniversary in a few days. I was tempted to wait until then to post this story, but I think you've waited too long as it is so think of this as an early anniversary present. Thanks to all of you who've stuck with me through this year and this is to another year of hopefully good chapters.

**Marian of the Faeries:** You wrote me a review! Thank you so much! It really means a lot coming from someone like you. And yes, they do have to get out but not yet -- not for a while yet (and I know that disappoints and exasperates most of you, but it's how it goes). 

**WildfireFriendship:** Wow, someone likes the bickering. That's new. But good! Draco is regaining some of his personality because he ain't dealing and this is another way of hiding. Thanks for the review!

**Tsuyuno:** Maybe ten is an exaggeration. I'm not sure. It does an awful lot so maybe some of these chapters would get meshed or cut out. I know it's hard waiting. I would speed it up if I could and I'm trying to... But life is annoying and I wish it was summer so I can get it ahead a few more chapters in a short time, but it's not and writing has to fit in with the community service, schoolwork, work and extracurricular activities that you have to do. Someone else has pointed out to me that Ron is...not shown in a good light in this. I'll try to change it in the future because I personally think Ron isn't that bad if you give him a really big chance. Hmm...When will Draco be 27 again... Three to six chapters? Maybe. Don't quote me on that.

**Janey:** Don't worry! I won't let myself abandon it. LOL! I want to get to some slash and some angst moments before I even consider letting it go (if I ever do). Thank you for the review. I love getting reviews from new people. 

**KT:** So does that mean last chapter wasn't good and was only good because it was new? :( Hopefully this chapter makes up for the last one but I'm not sure it's that much better either... Draco's headaches are because of the stress he's been through. I think he's entitled to feel a little misery after everything...**mh:** Did you get my last letter because I never got yours. My email addy has a tendency to bounce and loose emails (both incoming and out). I blame AOL. I really do want to make it more "realistic" so if you can email me again...give me another review...something?

**ne:** No one's arguing with you there.**Moonchild:** Hola! I meant it in an odd way that probably only I can understand... No, not a lot of action. I don't do action very well so everything seems to creep by with very little bumbs. Harry's not sane -- did I give the impression he was? He's just as nuts as the rest of them. He just hides it better. I'll elaborate more on that in later chapters.

**A/N 2:** Wow, I'm almost nearing 100 reviews! I never though I'll see the day... I had told Moonchild once that I thought I would never reach it... As always, please leave a review and as for the next chapter... Thanksgiving is coming soon and while I'll be in Canada for the most part of the week, I will try to get some more work done over that and Vetern's Day. I do have an essay that is demanding attention, but I'll work on that Sunday and hopefully that leaves Monday to tweak and to write more of Gregon. Until the next time! 


	17. Chapter 16

****

Chapter Sixteen

Voldemort smirked victoriously and glided over towards Midgen. He grasped her hands in his, raising it to his lips; a benediction. "My dear," he purred over her raised hand, his eyes boring into hers. "You have been an asset."

Midgen smiled without cheer. "I do what I have to."

Harry couldn't help it but he started to laugh, loudly. The hilarity of the situation was not lost to him, nor was its allusion to past indiscretions. The fact that he had been managed to be deceived not once, and not twice -- if you counted Draco of course, and he did -- but thrice! _Isn't this just like me?!_ he thought with a laugh, his voice hollow. Tears threatened to prick at his eyes as he started to feel lightheaded.

Releasing Midgen's hand, Voldemort cast a disinterested eye on the other occupants. "You know your orders," he said to Midgen. "I expect--" 

He was cut off as the body of Ron ran head on onto his own. Voldemort was pushed down, being cut fully unaware. Ron had recovered his senses quicker than he had been expected to and took full advantage of Voldemort's arrogance. 

Voldemort roared at the insolence. With a yell, he cursed to redhead without a second's thought, leaving him writhing on the cell floor. As his got up from his spot on the floor, his eyes flash in anger. "Leave that one to me!" he thundered. He snapped around to glare at Ron. "You will not know what pain is until I am finished with you," he promised. Turning his head he nodded at Midgen. "Get what you can and dispose of them."

He whirled around, slapping a hand on the door to let the guard know he wanted to be let out. He slipped through, leaving with a long gait.

The door was not closed to let Midgen out as well. Obviously they were on the business end of an inside joke. Harry just wished this joke didn't have the potential to end up killing them. He stopped his madness before Midgen could leave. He lunged at her, his hands gripped the smooth fabric of her black robe, throwing her on the nearest wall. Her back met the cold stone with an empty thud but before he could anything more, something hit him in the back and he lost consciousness. The last thing he would remember would be those cold, hard eyes of Midgen's, devoid of all feeling.

* * *

"Oh god," Ron moaned, wincing in pain and wishing those lights would stop spinning. He ground and managed to get his body into fetal position. "What the hell hit me?"

Slowly, his vision started to clear and he could make out the faint outlines of the tiny cell he was in. Along with his sight, his memory started to return as well. "Bloody hell!" he cursed. "That fucking bitch!" He sprung up into a sitting position, trying to ignore the protestations of his body and willing the dizziness to stop. He held his head in his hands as things, including the roaring in his head started to calm down and with reluctance, he lifted his aching head to glimpse at his surroundings. 

It was same old, cold, empty cell, but something was missing... He couldn't put his finger on it but... 

"Potter's gone," a voice intoned listlessly. 

Ron turned around to see the hunched figure of Draco Malfoy staring at him. 

"Fuck," Ron said under his breath when he realized Malfoy was right. Harry was gone. A growing sense of foreboding filled him as realized he was alone in the cell. _And with Malfoy_, his traitorous mind reminded him. He would have much rather not have remembered that fact.

"What the hell was that?" Ron demanded, waving wildly towards the door. "I thought she was bloody loyal to you!"

Malfoy didn't answer, his dull eyes staring at him. 

Ron cursed again, but it seemed like he was doing that a lot lately. "I knew there was something wrong with her the moment I set eyes with her! Never trust a Death Eater, how could I be so bloody stupid!" he spat the last part, disgusted at himself for ignoring his feelings and above all, his common sense.

"_I_ was a Death Eater," Malfoy reminded him softly, still in that toneless voice. He still hadn't moved from his spot.

"Don't remind me," Ron grumbled, getting to his feet. "Wing it!" he scoffed. "We never should have trusted her featherbrain ideas, that...two-timing..." He was so enraged that nothing could come to mind that was even the least bit descriptive as to what he was feeling.

Thankfully, Draco kept silent. Ron could think of only a few things that he hated more than the sound of Draco Malfoy. _Except maybe for Malfoy himself_, he thought. He knew he was being petty. His wife had always told him to let go of old grudges, but it was just hard. There were times where his hate was the only thing keeping him afloat, where there seemed to be nothing to him but just a man wracked with fury. And as he was hating Draco Malfoy, Ron couldn't help but feel he was entitled. After what that boy did to him -- or will do in terms of the Malfoy sitting in front of him -- just a little animosity was the least he should be allowed. 

Ron scowled. _But it would be more fun if Malfoy had been himself_, he conceded. There was just something about pestering a twelve year old child that seemed to spoil his mood which made him feel even more upset. He should be having a field day. For once in his life the tables were turned and he, _Ronald Weasley_ had a step up from the rich, spoiled Draco Malfoy. He was now smarter, _older_, wiser. He snorted, _And mostly likely a more varied repertoire of spells._

But still, he didn't get that rush of superiority that he had hoped to feel. And the fact that they were stuck in a Dark Lord stronghold was a major damper on his feelings. Somehow he couldn't feel good about himself. If any, he felt worse. _That and frustrated_, he thought of his attempts to hurt Malfoy verbally as Malfoy had once did to him regularly. 

And though he knew what he was doing was in nobody's best interests, least of all his, he still shouldn't help it. The animosity between Malfoy and him was just too deeply ingrained. It's been too long and things can not change after so many years of hate. Life didn't work that way.

Ron took a look around the cell, even though he knew he would be nothing new except for the body of Malfoy. He was looking at him, staring almost in expectancy if he didn't know better.

"What?" he asked irritably. This day was certainly not ending up as he had hoped.

"Aren't _you_ going to do something?" 

Ron looked at Malfoy deadpanned. "I don't know. What do you expect me to do?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Shouldn't you have a clue? Save Potter and all that -- most importantly get me out of here before that woman comes back and we get separated?"

"Now why wouldn't I want that to happen?" Ron asked himself softly, thinking half-seriously that that might not be such a bad thing to happen.

"Because it's what you do," Malfoy informed him bluntly. "Come charging in like white knights, saving people in distress." He looked down on himself and looked back up. "I think this would count as a distressing situation."

"Really?" Ron drawled, rubbing at a sore spot on his back. "I wouldn't have noticed."

The blonde boy glared at him with a barely concealed annoyance and Ron felt a sense of nostalgia. How many times when they were in school did he glare the same glare? The glare that almost always managed to either make him enraged or shudder? He seriously couldn't remember, but it had been a while since he had last seen that glare.

When they graduated, almost everyone in their year went their own way. Of course, the three of them -- Hermione, Harry and himself -- had stayed more or less together. Malfoy did his disappearing act and everyone had speculated that he had been fully ensnared in Death Eater activities, terrorizing people, murder and mayhem and the like, but there were no mention of his participation in any of the major attacks or offensive moments of the Dark Lord during the years that he was away.

Now knowing he was the Grey Dragon, something that made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach, Ron knew for certain that the Gregon was in London for at least part of the first year he was away as he had been sighted trice there. There had been talk of him even being in the Americas for a while as well as Africa for a bit as well, but it was hard to be certain. 

While he was doing good in the world, did that mean he was also doing bad? Now that was the question he wasn't sure he would like to have answered. _Not that it make a difference anyway_, he thought. His admiration of the Gregon had been severely checked since finding out his real identity. 

"Did you manage to find that secret escape of yours?" Ron asked, not knowing what else to do, short of nothing.

"No, but I haven't finished." Malfoy's told of voice was a bit harsh as though he was telling Ron not to judge him just yet. 

"Why don't you keep looking?" Ron suggested, thinking of this as a good way to get rid of him for a bit and give him some breathing room.

"Why don't you help?"

"Do you always answer a question with a question?"

"Do you?" Malfoy smirked. "I seem to remember you doing it a few times as well."

Ron closed his eyes and calmed himself down, telling himself that Dumbledore, not to mention Harry would have his hide if he strangled the annoying git. And it wouldn't even be that hard. He had seen from his position on the ground when Malfoy was attacking You-Know-Who. His movements were awkward and thought spirited, unsure. He was a twelve year olds brain in a twenty seven year old body and he didn't know what it was capable of, much less how to use it. He could over take him. Over the years, he had filled out nicely and Malfoy wouldn't know what would hit him. Ron sighed. As much he would have liked to, he was afraid he wasn't allowed.

"What am I looking for?" he asked resigned. They were getting nowhere and loosing time while they were getting nowhere. As much as he disliked Malfoy, he loved his best friend even more and god only knew what was happening to him. As far as he was concerned, he was doing a necessary evil by getting along with Malfoy, even if only for a short while.

"An indentation or anything that is out of the ordinary. Maybe something that can be a trigger." Malfoy turned, running his hand over the rocks.

Ron looked the wall up and down skeptically, his gut instinct telling him this was an exercise futility, but still he acquiesced anyway. _Something's better than nothing_, he supposed.

He reach out for the cold hard stone, his fingers searching for anything that was out of place, wishing that he still had his wand. One little revealing spell could make all the difference. 

After twenty minutes and a wall later, they still hadn't had found anything of note. Surprisingly, Malfoy was patient and just kept diligently working at the stone, searching for the one spot he wasn't even sure was even there. He would have thought the spoilt little brat would have been complaining at the lack of success by now. Certainly, this Malfoy was one he had never met before.

He himself was getting a bit impatient and he wasn't afraid to admit it to himself. Here he was, patting a _wall_ down of all things while who knows what was being done to his best friend. The passiveness of it all didn't sit well with him but he didn't want to seem like a child by complaining about it first, especially while Malfoy was stubbornly silent.

Still, he couldn't manage to cold in a tired sigh, that one little out take of air expressing all the helplessness, the inability and the uselessness that he felt. The dark wall in front of him seemed to be blurring in front of his eyes, each stone the same as the last. He was beginning to think that maybe this was one outcome the Gregon didn't provide for. 

"Nothing here," Ron said suddenly, filling in the silence. Most of the time silence would a be welcomed state when he was left alone with Malfoy, but this time, it seemed as though if it wasn't breached, it would be endless.

Malfoy ignored him, the simple gesture annoying him even though he knew it shouldn't.

"Did you hear me?" he asked more loudly. "I said, there's nothing here."

For a moment Malfoy stiffened and for a moment Ron thought he might turn to acknowledge him but instead Malfoy's shoulder's relaxed and he set about searching again for that little trigger he didn't even know existed.

The blonde boy's actions were beginning to perplex him, that Ron could deny. This wasn't the Malfoy he knew. _What the hell happened to the Malfoy I knew?_ he thought, half mad that this boy in front of him wasn't the boy he had known. And it didn't even make sense since the boy he had known was from where this boy right here was from so they should have been the same. Yet they weren't.

His silence and blatant disregard of him was starting to annoy him but when hasn't Malfoy annoyed him? From that very first day where Malfoy made fun of him and his family to the present, he could think of not one moment where this blonde boy had invoked any feelings other than malice, hate, disapproval or annoyance. He was just that type of guy you just loved to hate -- and he knew no one on this earth if they had even known Malfoy for even a second would contradict his thoughts.

Which was why he found it so hard to reconcile the Grey Dragon and this...this...this _Death Eater_. The Gregon was a lovable guy whom everyone adored, smooth talking, quick on his feet, more courageous than a Gryffindor, more loyal than a Hufflepuff, smart as a Ravenclaw and so sly that it would make a Slytherin turn away in shame in comparison. That was who the Grey Dragon was. He wasn't _Malfoy_.

Looking at him now, Ron couldn't see any of the qualities he had come to associate with the legendary spy. Instead of an untainted hero he had always thought of, Malfoy was a murderer, bringer of evil, notorious for his inventive tortures and inventive attacks. This was the man who after You-Know-Who, would be considered the most dangerous -- and powerful, he wouldn't be so dangerous if he wasn't -- in the world. In some ways even more so than You-Know-Who since he was young, new and as ruthless. There was also the fact that Draco Malfoy seemed more of less sane, which was more than could be said of the Dark Lord.

"Are you sure of this escape?" Ron asked absent-mindedly, his mind wandering from his earlier annoyance to the conundrum that was Malfoy. _Was he good? Was he evil?_ He was tempted to scream "Evil, evil, EVIL!" based on his thoughts of Draco Malfoy but when he took in count of the Gregon, he was more confused than ever. To him the Gregon seemed more a legendary figure, of an irreproachable hero than the Boy Who Lived. He knew how many in the Wizarding World saw Harry; he once seen him the very same way growing up with the tales of the great Boy Who Lived who had been the undoing of the Dark Lord.

But now... Now Harry was a friend -- his best friend. Together, they have been through more things and more near misses than he could count. Harry was his buddy, the guy he could count on being there for him. Harry Potter stopped being the Boy Who Lived before even their first year ended. He was always aware of it, he couldn't deny that but Harry wasn't that great. He held considerable power though and that was what Ron craved the most. Harry himself was just another boy.

Without a nice, _distant_, unapproachable person to believe in, he gravitated towards the Grey Dragon almost immediately after the first stories started trickling, a new person to fill in the HERO void within him because it was like he told Harry, everyone needed someone to believe in.

Now to find out this great man whom he'd always admired for over a decade was _Malfoy_. The thought of it made his insides twist and his lips to curl in disgust. It just wasn't possible.

"No," Draco's curt and clipped voice finally answered him. "I've already told you that."

Ron frowned at his tone of voice. He stopped his searched and sat back. "Then I can't see why we are wasting valuable time trying to look for something you don't even know exists."

"Then don't," Draco suggested helpfully, his voice deceptive. He turned his body so he could look at Ron. "You can do whatever it is that you think is more productive with that _invisible_ wand of yours. And while you're at it, you can get me out of this mess and my memory back. Or maybe You-Know-Who can come and let us out himself!"

Maybe it was because of all the setbacks of the night or maybe it was because he was so bruised and this limbs tired that the petty taunts didn't seem to register with him for the first time in all the years he had known Malfoy. Whatever it was, the feeling, or the lack of one, was starting to scare him.

"I just don't think this is any help to Harry."

"Forget Harry then." Before Malfoy knew it, he was scrambling away from an enraged Ron.

"Don't you ever say that! Harry's the bloody reason why were here in the first place, rescuing your sorry arse! We are _not_ leaving him!"

Despite the threat to his body, Malfoy smirked. "What? The Weasel overlooking a way to get the oh-so wonderful Boy-Who-Lived off his cloud?"

Ron shook with barely held in anger. "What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Talking. About?"

With a raised eyebrow, Malfoy look Ron in the eye. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it; not even once," he asked seductively.

'Thought about what?" The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what Malfoy asked of him or why he should even care.

Malfoy grinned as though he had a very important secret to bestow to him. "This could be your chance, you know. Instead of rescuing Potter, we could slip out and forget about him. It's be easier that way. And if I am who you say, you'll be the one remembered as the one who rescued the Grey Dragon. With Potter out of the way, who knows what you could do? No more living in the Boy Who Lived's shadow. Nice thought, isn't it?"

Falling silent, Ron narrowed his eyes to stare at Malfoy, wondering what he was getting at. His body went cold as he heard Malfoy's well delivered suggestion.

When he saw that Ron was neither denying or approving of his idea, Draco thought about making it a bit easier for the other man. _Or harder_, he thought as he reach out a hand, searching for that spot he had found just as Weasley started to annoy him.

With a rumble and swoosh as small opening appeared to the right of Draco. It was situated on the floor, about two feet in length and a foot and a half at width; just large enough for a man to side through. 

He had turned to look at the opening when it had first opened, glad that his instincts were right and Draco turned back to look back at Ron. "So?" he prompted. "Are we going to leave?"

Ron kept his facial expression purposefully blank but inside he wasn't as calm as he projected. He knew he didn't want to leave Harry; he was sure of that. But he was also knew that he wanted to live and Malfoy was offering him the best chance to achieve that. As much as he hated to admit it, trying to rescue Harry when they didn't know where he was being kept or they were even going to get there would greatly put them at risk and would probably end in death. They weren't exactly the great catch -- Harry was that.

And he would be lying if the thought of being out of the Boy Who Lived's limelight wasn't even a bit tempting. Ron licked his lips and hoped he wasn't making the wrong decision.

"No."

Well, he'll be damned. As soon as he had delivered his decision, the blonde brat started laughing. Ron couldn't quite hide the shock on his face. 

It wasn't malicious laughter or taunting. It seemed to be just mirth which baffled Ron even more. He failed to see any hilarity in the situation. Malfoy just tried to conspire with him to betray his best friend and after he refuted the offer, Malfoy starts..._laughing_? "What is so bloody funny?" he growled.

Malfoy lifted his head, the limp strands of his hair falling around him and chortled a bit more. "I guess Potter's rubbed off on you. Pity."

He still couldn't see what was so funny in it but he guessed it would probably be just another one of those things about Draco Malfoy he would never understand. "Why?"

"I could see your eyes. You wanted it. Without Potter's influence, you probably would have taken it."

"Without Harry, it wouldn't even matter."

"True," Malfoy agreed, stunning Ron. 

_This must be a new one. Malfoy actually agreeing with something I said._

"But tell me, didn't the thought of saving your own skin cross your mind?"

The way he phrased it, with that smug knowing tone of his told him that even without Ron's admission, he wouldn't have believed otherwise anyway. So instead of behaving as predicabe as he assumed Malfoy would expect him to, he turned on his own sly smile.

"Of course I did but if I had left Harry here to die, the whole Wizarding World would crucify me."

This time it was he who laughed.

* * *

Harry slowly regained consciousness, his heavy lidded eyes reluctantly opened as he tried to focus. He was strapped into a metal chair, but from the warmth emanating from it, he surmised that he had been there long enough to warm it up. He glanced around the room he was being held in. It was obvious that he had been moved from the cell since this room was not of rock and stone. The lighting was a giveaway as well as this one was lit up by electrical lighting which surprised him. This was a Death Eater installation, not a muggle holding facility.

His first coherent thought once he took full stock of his surroundings were of his companions, of Ron and Draco who where no where to be seen. Almost immediately worry started to set in as he wondered about their welfare and how they come out from their earlier tussle.

"I see you're awake," a voice from behind him commented.

Harry started and tried to turn his head so he could see the figure standing still behind him. He could tell from the voice who it was but he needed to see her with his own eyes.

"Midgen," he snarled, surprising himself at the vehemence in own voice. "Come to betray me even further?"

"I didn't betray you," she said innocently.

"Then what the hell would you call what you've just did?" 

Slowly Midgen stepped into his field of vision, her face expressionless but it was something Harry was starting to see accustomed to seeing. "I call it my job."

Harry laughed caustically. "Hell of a job, Midgen. And here I thought you were loyal to Draco or was that an act as well?"

The corner of Midgen's mouth lifted up in a small half-smile. "No act. Just doing what's best for Draco, obviously something you aren't capable of."

"Best for Draco?" Harry fought the urge to scoff, instead opting for dry sarcasm. "How is death best for Draco?"

"Death?" There was true confusion in her voice as for a moment the blank mask fell and she was clearly baffled. "What are you talking about?"

Harry stared at the woman in disbelief. _She's off her rocker_, he thought with a jolt, surprised that he hadn't have thought of it before when it seemed to be so clearly evident with the way she was obsessed with Ron, the way she was overly protective and possessive of Draco. Harry was suddenly filled with a sense of pity for this woman. That was quickly curtailed of course as it was a bit hard to feel sympathy for a person who was in a position to kill you and had just betrayed you. "Are you that naive? What else would be in store for a proven spy?" Harry spat, his eyes fixed on the still figure of Midgen. Even now, looking at her in his vulnerable position, he felt nothing but abhorrence for the woman.

He narrowed his eyes as he was made aware of his own words. "Tell me," he asked, his voice even. "Why aren't you dead yet? I wouldn't have thought the _great_ Dark Lord would have let a spy live."

Midgen smiled her half-smile again, looking as though she was privy to some information that only she held and was just about to dispense it to the rest of the unworthy world. "That would be so," she agreed, "had I been a spy."

He didn't know it was possible for his blood to burn even hotter than it had before. Back then there were a number of emotions flowing thought his body, embarrassment, anger, irony to name a few but the feeling he felt now at Midgen's easy admission eclipsed all of those. This time he felt affronted that Midgen, with her professed loyalty to Draco Malfoy had been nothing more than a snake. _She was right_, he thought with harsh hindsight, _she would have made a great Slytherin._

"So this must be some coup for you, isn't it?" Harry taunted, knowing fully that Midgen held great anger within her. It was one of her follies; that and Ron but since the red head wasn't there to antagonize her, his efforts would just have to do. He just hoped that being Harry Potter and a Gryffindor was enough to start her up. "Potter, Weasley and the Gregon; how proud Voldemort must be."

"Oh he is." Midgen slide closer to Harry, her body's proximity making itself aware to Harry's. "I shalt be promoted for this, I believe." She smirked. "Take Malfoy's old job now that he...won't have need of it anymore."

He wanted to snort in disgust at the way she was talking about all so nonchalantly. "You really are a bitch."

Her hand snapped out and had grabbed a fistful of hair before he could even register it and snapped his head back, causing him to almost have backlash. 

"You forget your place, Potter," she snarled, her face close. "You're the one tied up and I am the one that's not." She let go of his head abruptly and for a moment Harry thought he was safe but before he had a chance to recover, Midgen backhanded him, whipping his head to the side. "Don't you ever insult me again."

Harry turned his head slowly back to face her, his mouth set and this eyes hard. _That girl packs a punch_, he though in a daze. "What?" he taunted. "You've resorted to attacking defenseless, tied up people now? Can't hit one otherwise?"

Midgen's eyes flashed as Harry realized he was starting to get to her. He smirked, knowing it was the truth. "I hope this is worth it, Midgen."

Then, visibly Midgen straightened and the fire that had been awaken in her eyes died to a small flame. She smiled but there was nothing in it. "It is. It's the most important thing I will ever do."

Her serious, solemn words gave Harry pause as he tried to figure out what Midgen meant by that statement. 

Midgen rounded the chair and stood in front of Harry. "So," she petitioned, her hands wide in a parody of indecision, "are you going to make this easy and tell me what I want to know?"

"What you want or the Dark Lord?" Harry threw right back, sending the ball to her court.

"Both. We--"

"Please," Harry interrupted. "don't say we can do this the hard way or the easy way. That is so overused."

Midgen glared, a tint of disgust leaking into her facial expression. "You don't even get it, do you Potter?" Without waiting for him to respond, she continued, "The great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived! You hold the key and I," she moved closer as punctuated every word, "Want. To. Know. What. It. Is." 

"What exactly do you want to know?" Harry asked with no intention of actually answer her questions.

"Where are your operatives stationed? Where do you coordinate your attacks? How did the Gregon get his messages out to Dumbledore without out one of us alerted to it?"

Harry digested the questions and thought with laugh that he didn't know half of the things being asked. He may have been the Boy Who Lived, but he was a field agent more than anything else. He wasn't privy to that sort of information.

When Harry didn't answer, Midgen started to speak again, "I can make this very painful for you, I'm sure you know that."

Without fear or hesitation, Harry raised his head to look Midgen in the eyes, just so he could be sure that she understood him. "I understand and you know what? I'm not going to say a thing." He pursed his lips and turned his head away. 

Making a sound of disappointment, Midgen took a step back and for the first time, Harry noticed the wand in her hand. She sighed and raised. "I hate it when they're difficult," she muttered, more to herself than anything. "One last chance to tell me what I want to know?"

Harry didn't answer, stubbornly keeping his mouth shut.

"I didn't think so. Crucio!"

* * *

"Malfoy? Sir?"

Hearing the hushed, urgency filled voice perked their ears and they scrambled up from their sitting position from the floor. They had spent the time tossing out occasional ideas of how to reunite with Harry and to escape but most of the time was spent in silence. Ron didn't know how to relate to twelve year old, much less a the twelve year old version of the person he considered one of the great evils of all time and Draco just didn't want to talk to Ron period, though the blonde had to admit he was starting to look at Ron in a new light.

He didn't think the red head had it in him, being the true Gryffindor through and through. Imagine his surprise when a little spark of Slytherin appeared. _Is everyone exhibiting signs of Slytherin now?_ he wondered, thinking of the Hufflepuff who thought she was a Slytherin.

The two of them didn't answer the call, wary of this new person, whomever he may be. They could never be too careful.

"Sir?" the voice summoned again. The lock at the door jingled as it was clumsily unlocked. The door slowly opened, the person behind clearly trying to be quite and a familiar head poked through the when it was opened wide enough for a head to fit through. "Sir," Oscar breathed with relief. "You're still here. I was afraid that they might have moved you to a different holding cell or something."

Eventually, he got the entire door opened. 

"You spineless twit!" Ron unconsciously used the phrase that Midgen had described Oscar as.

Oscar recoiled at the sudden attack.

Draco reached out and grabbed an arm of Ron's. At soon at Draco touched him, Ron's eyes was drawn to where their bodies met with horror. _Malfoy...Touching...ME!_ he wailed in his mind, feeling totally affronted by this.

"Knock it off, Weasley," Draco commanded, letting go of the arm but Ron was still staring at the spot where Draco had touched him to hear him. Draco turned his attention to the newcomer. "Couldn't you have gotten here _before_...before Voldemort arrived?" Draco swallowed, hoping Oscar wouldn't comment on the small laspe. For a moment, he wasn't sure of what to call Voldemort. His gut reaction was to say the Dark Lord as he had always thought You-Know-Who was rather silly but he wasn't sure if he should call him that or if he should invoke his name. 

Oscar didn't seem to notice much and if he did, he didn't dwell on it too long because he immediately launched into an apology. "I'm sorry sir. It couldn't be helped. The Dark Lord arrived a lot sooner than planned and I couldn't get away," he apologized profusely. "But I'm here now. Here," he handed them two wands.

"My wand!" Ron exclaimed, snatching it from Oscar. "I was afraid you had snapped it." 

Draco took his wand too, the familiar feel of it causing him to feel a bit of normalcy. He eyed the piece of wood in Ron's hand. "When did you get a new wand?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes and failed, Ron retorted, "I'm not the penniless second year anymore." Ron caressed the smooth wood loving, remembering the day he bought the wand with his own money, his first real paycheck. From that moment on, the wand had never left his side; everything he had been through, the wand had too.

Oscar swallowed hard. "You'll have to go soon. The next round of guards will be coming this way soon."

"Why are you doing this?" Ron questioned suddenly, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. "I know about your son, but why would you put yourself at risk?"

At the mention of his son, Oscar stiffened and the fidgeting stopped. A hard look seeped into his eyes as Ron saw something he recognized all too well. The man had the same look of him that he himself had sported during that grueling year when he no longer had any hope and all that consumed him was hate and grief and the thirst for revenge. 

"For Matt," Oscar intoned. "Always for him."

The other man's behavior was starting to disturb Draco as he watched the eyes of Oscar go glassy. For a moment, he was unsure of what to do. "Uh...Where's Potter?"

Shaking himself, the semblance of light returned to his eyes. Oscar frowned, looking around for Harry, but not finding him. He licked his lips, and Draco felt a bit of foreboding at the simple, innocent act. 

"Don't tell me you don't know where they've taken him," Ron demanded, dead-pan.

The fat man shrugged. He held out Harry's wand. "I have his wand," he said in hopes that would make up for his lack of knowledge. Ron glared at him while Draco stood off to the side, his head in thought.

"Midgen took him," Draco spoke up, hoping that would lead to some clue as to where Harry was being held.

Oscar swallowed. "If Midgen's taken him, then he'll be in one of the holding cells on the first floor. Most likely Room Four...She always liked it because...you know..." 

Draco blinked. He had no clue as to what Oscar was talking about or what room he was talking about but he wasn't about to let him know that. Obviously he didn't know what sort of situation he was in. _He's probably wasn't high enough_, he reasoned. "Yeah," he agreed, thinking it was probably the best thing to say.

"You've got to go -- the guards--"

"Where are they by the way?" Ron asked suddenly as he realized that they had been without a patrol in a long while, a lot longer than what should be. "Shouldn't one have already gone by..." His words trailed off as he walked out of the cell and looked down the dark corridor. Even though the lack of light, he could make out the two bodies laying on the floor. "Are they...?"

Oscar nodded grimly.

Ron thankfully kept his mouth shut about it in light of all this. They were after all only Death Eaters; no doubt they have done something to deserve their fate. "Where's our cloaks?"

His eyes look away as Oscar frowned. "I don't have them any more."

"What?" Ron nearly screeched but caught himself in time. "What do you mean you don't have them any more? You were the last person _to_ have them!"

Oscar took a deep breath to calm the jitters inside him. "I swear sir," he said, turning to Draco with a pleading looking in his eyes. "I couldn't help it. It was out of my hands."

Draco had no idea what they were talking about and kept silent and still. _What's all this fuss about some clothes?_

Now it was Ron who had to take a deep breath to calm himself. "I can't believe we're going to roam this place without the cloaks," he moaned.

"It can't be helped. Now go!" Oscar urged. "You've got to get out. I would help you with Potter, but I can't. This is all I can do for you." Oscar looked pleadingly at Draco. "And sir, I hope you win."

* * *

**A/N:** Lame! I am so lame and this story is so lame! Ugh... I hate disappointing myself like this... :( I'm bad... I said they would be escape and they weren't! I'm so sorry! ;( And this chapter is so short... :( Next chapter will most likely be short too... :( But I know for sure that that one would get them out of the Manor. I had just cut it off before that point... I have excuses though but I won't bore you all by making you all listen to them... I will try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can. Winter Vacation is only a hop, jump and a skip away afterall.

**Tionne:** You're back! I missed you in the last chapter! Draco will always be my perfect guy but since I think most people like to see him like that anyway, I think I'm getting away with it. I'm glad you liked some bits of the story... And I know there wasn't any H/D interaction, but maybe next chapter, I can push up the timetable. I know I've been promising it, but I'm getting there slowly... I'm not good at NC-17 I'm afraid (especially since I've never tired it before). That was not a cliffhanger! Okay, it was, but I hope this one wasn't... I used to be a big CH writer that I was invited to the CHA (Cliff Hangers Anonymous). I'm sorry you had to wait this long for this pathetic chapter. And it's more or less filler. LOL! You aren't by any chance born in November are you?

**KT:** Oh good, I'm glad chapter 14 was good... The numbers are a bit off since the first chapter is the prologue. This chapter is 16.

**Tsuyuno:** LOL! You'll see... LOL! They're getting to the point where they will get out. And the process isn't gradual. When the week ends, he'll be 27 just like that. It's only a few days and I'm planning on jumping a few hours. You're most likely in Japan, but I hope you have fun! And this chapter should have answered about Oscar.

**WildfireFriendship:** I'm so glad you liked the last chapter. And I'm very glad the twist at the end pleased somebody...

**Youko Gingitsune:** Don't worry, you aren't the only one. Hopefully it'll all make some sense at the end...

**Moonchild:** HI! Hermione knows she has to let Ron go. It'll be a lot messier if he tried to get Ron to stay home. Thank you so much for pointing that mistake out! I fixed it right after I saw your review. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Harry has always been a major figure in Draco's mind I think. LOL! I'm glad Voldemort was as typical as I could make him. I have problems making him sound terribly evil to the point where he is an ultimate evil. Again, I'm sad that this chapter is so bad that I made you wait all that time for this stupid thing... :( I'll make it up, promise! I swear one of these days I'll actually like a chapter.

**A/N 2:** Thanks to all the readers who reviewed and to all those who didn't. Much thanks to my beta, I've been neglecting her in these and let's see with this chapter can we hit the big 100. Review, even just to say it's good; I take almost anything and I would love you all for anything you can give me.

One last note. A few people have approached me with wanting updates and I was a bit leary about making a bit pronouncement because I know I personally don't like update lists... But if anyone really wants and update reminder (they're not much -- usually it's just the header) tell me and I'll add you to the list. With that, I'll end this.


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